Success Is Counted Sweetest /

A Bayonet's Contrition Is Nothing To The Dead.

Superiority To Fate Is Difficult To Gain 'tis Not Conferred Of Any But Possible To Earn.

There's A Certain Slant Of Light, On Winter Afternoons, That Oppresses, Like The Weight Of Cathedral Tunes.

I Cling To Nowhere Until I Fall - The Crash Of Nothing.

How Happy Is The Little Stone That Rambles In The Road Alone, And Doesn't Care About Careers, And Exigencies Never Fears; Whose Coat Of Elemental Brown A Passing Universe Put On; And Independent As The Sun, Associates Or Glows Alone, Fulfilling Absolute Decree In Casual Simplicity.