What Sort Of Faults May We Retain,

I Bid The Chords Sweet Music Make, And All Must Follow In My Wake.

One Should Not Search For Anything Behind The Phenomena. They Themselves Are The Message.

We Should Treat Children As God Does Us, Who Makes Us Happiest When He Leaves Us Under The Influence Of Innocent Delusions.

What You Can Do, Or Think You Can, Begin It.

Higher Yet And Higher Out Of Clouds And Night, Nearer Yet And Nearer Rising To The Light - Light, Serene And Holy Where My Soul May Rest, Purified And Lowly, Sanctified And Blest.