Keep True To The Dreams

Futurity Is Impregnable To Mortal Ken: No Prayer Pierces Through Heaven's Adamantine Walls. Whether The Birds Fly Right Or Left, Whatever Be The Aspect Of The Stars, The Book Of Nature Is A Maze, Dreams Are A Lie, And Every Sign A Falsehood.

What The Inner Voice Says Will Not Disappoint The Hoping Soul.

What Reason, Like The Careful Ant, Draws Laboriously Together, The Wind Of Accident Sometimes Collects In A Moment.

Ever Building, Building To The Clouds, Still Building Higher, And Never Reflecting That The Poor Narrow Basis Cannot Sustain The Giddy Tottering Column.

Accursed Be He Who Plays With The Devil.