If what we worship fail us, still the fire burns on, and it is much to have believed.

On the neck of the young man sparkles no gem so gracious as enterprise. Youth condemns; maturity condones.

A man must be sacrificed now and again to provide for the next generation of men.

Hate is ravening vulture beaks descending on a place of skulls.

I should like to bring a case to trial: Prosperity versus Beauty, Cash registers teetering in a balance against the comfort of the soul.

This is America, This vast, confused beauty, This staring, restless speed of loveliness, Mighty, overwhelming, crude, of all forms, Making grandeur out of profusion, Afraid of no incongruities, Sublime in its audacity, Bizarre breaker of moulds.

May is much sunshine through small leaves.