The World Is Always Ready

On The Whole, I Am On The Side Of The Unregenerate Who Affirms The Worth Of Life As An End In Itself, As Against The Saints Who Deny It.

The Root Of Joy, As Of Duty, Is To Put All One's Powers Towards Some Great End.

The Wind Blows Out, The Bubble Dies; The Spring Entomb'd In Autumn Lies; The Dew Dries Up; The Star Is Shot; The Flight Is Past, And Man Forgot.

It Is Perfectly Easy To Be Original By Violating The Laws Of Decency And The Canons Of Good Taste.

Men, Like Peaches And Pears, Grow Sweet A Little While Before They Begin To Decay.