You Would Attain To The Divine Perfection.

The Country Is Lyric, The Town Dramatic. When Mingled, They Make The Most Perfect Musical Drama.

No Action, Whether Foul Or Fair, Is Ever Done, But It Leaves Somewhere A Record, Written By Fingers Ghostly, As A Blessing Or A Curse, And Mostly In The Greater Weakness Or Greater Strength Of The Acts Which Follow It.

Every Man Must Patiently Bide His Time. He Must Wait -- Not In Listless Idleness But In Constant, Steady, Cheerful Endeavors, Always Willing And Fulfilling And Accomplishing His Task, That When The Occasion Comes He May Be Equal To The Occasion.

Big Words Do Not Smite Like War-clubs, Boastful Breath Is Not A Bow-string, Taunts Are Not So Sharp As Arrows, Deeds Are Better Things Than Words Are, Actions Mightier Than Boastings.

Perhaps There Lives Some Dreamy Boy, Untaught In Schools, Some Graduate Of The Field Or Street, Who Shall Become A Master Of Art, An Admiral Sailing The High Seas Of Thought Fearless And First, And Steering With His Fleet For Lands Not Yet Laid Down In Any Chart.