A minute of success pays for years of failure.

But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?

Be sure they sleep not whom God needs.

Unless you can love, as the angels may, With the breadth of heaven betwixt you; Unless you can dream that his faith is fast, Through behoving and unbeloving; Unless you can die when the dream is past- Oh, never call it loving!

Time'swheelsrunsbackor stops: Potterand clayendure.

Our interest's on the dangerous edge of things. The honest thief, the tender murderer, the superstitious atheist.

Inscribe all human effort with one word, artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete!