Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely.

I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me, And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet.

Something there is more immortal even than the stars.

Thunder on! Stride on! Democracy. Strike with vengeful stroke!

Most works are most beautiful without ornament.

All is procession; the universe is a procession with measured and beautiful motion.

And there is no trade or employment but the young man following it may become a hero.