The road recedes as the traveler advances, leaving a continuous present.

It is the fine excesses of life that make it worth living.

All roads indeed lead to Rome, but theirs also is a more mystical destination, some bourne of which no traveller knows the name, some city, they all seem to hint, even more eternal.

Stay the course, light a star, Change the world where'er you are.

Organized Christianity has probably done more to retard the ideals that were its founder's than any other agency in the world.

We are all treading the vanishing road of a song in the air, the vanishing road of the spring flowers and the winter snows, the vanishing roads of the winds and the streams, the vanishing road of beloved faces.

Perhaps we too seldom reflect how much the life of Nature is one with the life of man, how unimportant or indeed merely seeming, the difference between them.