It Is The Childlike Part Of Us

Love Is Enough Love Is Enough: Though The World Be A-waning, And The Woods Have No Voice But The Voice Of Complaining, Though The Skies Be Too Dark For Dim Eyes To Discover The Gold-cups And Daisies Fair Blooming Thereunder, Though The Hills Be Held Shadows, And The Sea A Dark Wonder, And This Day Draw A Veil Over All Deeds Passed Over, Yet Their Hands Shall Not Tremble, Their Feet Shall Not Falter: The Void Shall Not Weary, The Fear Shall Not Alter These Lips And These Eyes Of The Loved And The Lover.

Free Men Must Live Simple Lives And Have Simple Pleasures.

When Socialism Comes, It May Be In Such A Form That We Won't Like It.

A Pattern Is Either Right Or Wrong...it Is No Stronger Than Its Weakest Point.

Whiles In The Early Winter Eve We Pass Amid The Gathering Night Some Homestead That We Had To Leave Years Past; And See Its Candles Bright Shine In The Room Beside The Door Where We Were Merry Years Agone But Now Must Never Enter More, As Still The Dark Road Drives Us On. E'en So The World Of Men May Turn At Even Of Some Hurried Day And See The Ancient Glimmer Burn Across The Waste That Hath No Way; Then With That Faint Light In Its Eyes A While I Bid It Linger Near And Nurse In Wavering Memories The Bitter-sweet Of Days That Were.