Truth sits upon the lips of dying men.

Journalism is literature in a hurry.

If there ever comes a time when the women of the world come together purely and simply for the benefit of mankind, it will be a force such as the world has never known.

Truth sits upon the lips of dying men.

And each day brings it's pretty dust, Our soon-choked souls to fll And we forget because we must, And not because we will.

Still bent to make some port he knows not where, still standing for some false impossible shore.

Bald as the bare mountain tops are bald, with a baldness full of grandeur.