I who still pray at morning and at eve Thrice in my life perhaps have truly prayed, Thrice stirred below conscious self Have felt that perfect disenthrallment which is God.

Against the windows the storm comes dashing, Through tattered foliage the hail tears crashing, The blue lightning flashes, The rapid hail clashes... The thunder is rumbling And crashing and crumbling.

As life runs on, the road grows strange with faces new - and near the end. The milestones into headstones change, Neath every one a friend.

The true ideal is not opposed to the real but lies in it; and blessed are the eyes that find it.

The brain can be easy to buy, but the heart never comes to market.

Fortune is the rod of the weak, and the staff of the brave.

The ultimate result of protecting fools from their folly is to fill the planet full of fools.