Thought Is The Soul Of

No Work Begun Shall Ever Pause For Death.

Inscribe All Human Effort With One Word, Artistry's Haunting Curse, The Incomplete!

Ah, But A Man's Reach Should Exceed His Grasp, Or What's A Heaven For?

Imperfection Means Perfection Hid.

Then Welcome Each Rebuff That Turns Earth's Smoothness Rough, Each Sting That Bids Nor Sit Nor Stand, But Go! Be Our Joys Three-parts Pain! Strive, And Hold Cheap The Strain; Learn, Nor Account The Pang; Dare, Never Grudge The Throe!