So long as all is ordered for attack, and that alone, leaders will instinctively increase the number of enemies that they may give their followers something to do.

... Let the cage bird and the cage bird mate and the wild bird mate in the wild.

It seems to me that true love is a discipline.

How but in custom and in ceremony are innocence and beauty born?

The wind blows out of the gates of the day, The wind blows over the lonely of heart, And the lonely of heart is withered away.

For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?