Tell Me, Ye Wingèd Winds That Round

He Who Has Mingled In The Fray Of Duty That The Brave Endure, Must Have Made Foes. If You Have None, Small Is The Work That You Have Done.

Every Age Has Its Peculiar Folly: Some Scheme, Project, Or Fantasy Into Which It Plunges, Spurred On By The Love Of Gain, The Necessity Of Excitement, Or The Force Of Imitation.

Old Tubal Cain Was A Man Of Might In The Days When Earth Was Young.

Truth . . . And If Mine Eyes Can Bear Its Blaze, And Trace Its Symmetries, Measure Its Distance, And Its Advent Wait, I Am No Prophet - I But Calculate.

Aid The Dawning, Tongue And Pen; Aid It, Hopes Of Honest Men!