I kiss you and kiss you, With arms around my own, Ah, how shall I miss you, When, dear, you have grown.

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.

Come let us mock at the great That had such burdens on the mind And toiled so hard and late To leave some monument behind, Nor thought of the leveling wind.

Books are but waste paper unless we spend in action the wisdom we get from thought - asleep. When we are weary of the living, we may repair to the dead, who have nothing of peevishness, pride, or design in their conversation.

What man does not understand, he fears; and what he fears, he tends to destroy.

And many a poor man that has roved Loved and thought himself beloved From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.

Mysticism has been in the past and probably ever will be one of the great powers of the world and it is bad scholarship to pretend the contrary.