Time May Restore Us In

Weary Of Myself, And Sick Of Asking What I Am, And What I Ought To Be, At This Vessel's Prow I Stand, Which Bears Me Forwards, Forwards, O'er The Starlit Sea.

Not Deep The Poet Sees, But Wide.

Philistine Must Have Originally Meant, In The Mind Of Those Who Invented The Nickname, A Strong, Dogged, Unenlightened Opponent Of The Chosen People, Of The Children Of The Light.

Whoever Sets Himself To See Things As They Are Will Find Himself One Of A Very Small Circle But It Is Only By This Small Circle Resolutely Doing Its Own Work That Adequate Ideas Will Ever Get Current At All.

Below The Surface Stream, Shallow And Light, Of What We Say And Feel Below The Stream, As Light, Of What We Think We Feel, There Flows With Noiseless Current, Strong, Obscure And Deep, The Central Stream Of What We Feel Indeed.