Measure your mind's height by the shade it casts.
Still more labyrinthine buds the rose.
There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live as before; The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound; What was good shall be good, with for evil so much good more; On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect round.
The devil, that old stager, who leads downward, perhaps, but fiddles all the way!
Believeth with the life, the pain shall stop.
A people is but the attempt of many To rise to the completer life of one; And those who live as models for the mass Are singly of more value than they all.