I ask my destiny - what power is this That cruelly drives me onward without rest? My destiny says, "Look round!" I turn back and see It is I myself that is ever pushing me from behind.

The young student sits with his head bent over his books, and his mind straying in youth's dreamland; where prose is prowling on the desk and poetry hiding in the heart.

What is Art? It is the response of man's creative soul to the call of the Real.

Man is worse than an animal when he is an animal.

If it is necessary to die in order to live like men, what harm in dying?

Come oh come ye tea-thirsty restless ones -- the kettle boils, bubbles and sings, musically.

It is in the very heart of our activity that we search for our goal.