If I Were Dying, My

The Axis Of The Earth Sticks Out Visibly Through The Center Of Each And Every Town Or City.

The Individual Will Always Be A Minority. If A Man Is In A Minority Of One, We Lock Him Up.

Our Dead Brothers And Sisters Still Live For Us And Bid Us Think Of Life, Not Death-of Life To Which In Their Youth They Lent The Passion And Glory Of Spring. As I Listen, The Great Chorus Of Life And Joy Begins Again, And Amid The Awful Orchestra Of Seen And Unseen Powers And Destinies Of Good And Evil, Our Trumpets Sound Once More A Note Of Daring, Hope, And Will.

There Was Never An Idea Started That Woke Up Men Out Of Their Stupid Indifference But Its Originator Was Spoken Of As A Crank.

While We've Youth In Our Hearts, We Can Never Grow Old.