Alas! Is Even Love Too

The Sophist Sneers: Fool, Take Thy Pleasure, Right Or Wrong! The Pious Wail: Forsake A World These Sophists Throng! Be Neither Saint Nor Sophist-led, But Be A Man.

The Future Of Poetry Is Immense, Because In Poetry, Where It Is Worthy Of Its High Destinies, Our Race, As Time Goes On, Will Find An Ever Surer And Surer Stay ... More And More Mankind Will Discover That We Have To Turn To Poetry To Interpret Life For Us, To Console Us, To Sustain Us.

Physician Of The Iron Age, Goethe Has Done His Pilgrimage. He Took The Suffering Human Race, He Read Each Wound, Each Weakness Clear -- And Struck His Finger On The Place, And Said -- Thou Ailest Here, And Here.

Is It So Small A Thing To Have Enjoyed The Sun.

But There Remains The Question: What Righteousness Really Is. The Method And Secret And Sweet Reasonableness Of Jesus.