They... Who Await. No Gifts

Conduct Is Three-fourths Of Our Life And Its Largest Concern.

Oxus, Forgetting The Bright Speed He Had In His High Mountain Cradle In Pamere, A Foiled Circuitous Wanderertill At Last The Longed-for Dash Of Waves Is Heard, And Wide His Luminous Home Of Waters Opens, Bright And Tranquil, From Whose Floor The New-bathed Stars Emerge, And Shine Upon The Aral Sea.

We Cannot Kindle When We Will The Fire Which In The Heart Resides, The Spirit Bloweth And Is Still, In Mystery Our Soul Abides: But Tasks In Hours Of Insight Will'd Can Be Through Hours Of Gloom Fulfill'd.

Inequality Has The Natural And Necessary Effect, Under The Present Circumstances, Of Materializing Our Upper Class, Vulgarizing Our Middle Class, And Brutalizing Our Lower Class.

Journalism Is Literature In A Hurry.