But The One Thing You

A Man's Hope Measures His Civilization. The Attainability Of The Hope Measures, Or May Measure, The Civilization Of His Nation And Time.

I Would Hold The Rosy, Slender Fingers Of The Dawn For You.

And The Good Writer Chooses His Words For Their 'meaning', But That Meaning Is Not A A Set, Cut-off Thing Like The Move Of Knight Or Pawn On A Chess-board. It Comes Up With Roots, With Associations, With How And Where The Word Is Familiarly Used, Or Where It Has Been Used Brilliantly Or Memorably.

In Our Time, The Curse Is Monetary Illiteracy, Just As Inability To Read Plain Print Was The Curse Of Earlier Centuries.

Real Education Must Ultimately Be Limited To Men Who Insist On Knowing, The Rest Is Mere Sheep-herding.