God warms his hands at man's heart when he prays.

In the power and splendor of the universe, inspiration waits for the millions to come. Man has only to strive for it. Poems greater than the Iliad, plays greater than Macbeth, stories more engaging than Don Quixote await their seeker and finder.

His face was filled with broken commandments.

God warms his hands at man's heart when he prays.

I have seen dawn and sunset on moors and windy hills Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain.

I must go down to the sea again For the call of the running tide It's a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied.

All I ask is a tall ship and a star to sail her by.