The Leprosy Of Unreality Disfigured Every Human

'mind And Matter,' Said The Lady In The Wig, 'glide Swift Into The Vortex If Immensity. Howls The Sublime, And Softly Sleeps The Calm Ideal, In The Whispering Chambers Of Imagination.'

A Day Wasted On Others Is Not Wasted On One's Self.

There Was A Gay Fiction Among Us That We Were Constantly Enjoying Ourselves, And A Skeleton Truth That We Never Did. To The Best Of My Belief, Our Case Was In The Last Respect A Rather Common One.

And When It Has Got In; As One Not Finding What It Seeks, Whatever That May Be, It Wails And Howls To Issue Forth Again: And Not Content With Stalking Through The Aisles, And Gliding Round And Round The Pillars, And Tempting The Deep Organ, Soars Up To The Roof, And Strives To Rend The Rafters: Then Flings Itself Despairingly Upon The Stones Below, And Passes, Muttering, Into The Vaults.

Man," Said The Ghost, "if Man You Be In Heart, Not Adamant, Forbear That Wicked Cant Until You Have Discovered What The Surplus Is, And Where It Is. Will You Decide What Men Shall Live, What Men Shall Die?