Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon.

Give what you have. To some one, it may be better than you dare to think.

The air of summer was sweeter than wine.

I hear the wind among the trees Playing the celestial symphonies; I see the branches downward bent, Like keys of some great instrument.

Fame comes only when deserved, and then is as inevitable as destiny, for it is destiny.

And in the wreck of noble lives Something immortal still survives.

Into a world unknown,-the corner-stone of a nation!