Ah, Great It Is To

Earth Is Enough. We Men Of Earth Have Here The Stuff Of Paradise - We Have Enough! We Need No Other Stones To Build The Temple Of The Unfulfilled - No Other Ivory For The Doors - No Other Marble For The Floors - No Other Cedar For The Beam And Dome Of Man's Immortal Dream. Here On The Paths Of Every-day - Here On The Common Human Way Is All The Stuff The Gods Would Take To Build A Heaven, To Mold And Make New Edens. Ours Is The Stuff Sublime To Build Eternity In Time!

The Sequoias Belong To The Silences Of The Milleniums. Many Of Them Have Seen A Hundred Human Generations Rise, Give Off Their Little Clamors And Perish. They Seem Indeed To Be Forms Of Immortality Standing Here Amoing The Transitory Shapes Of Time.

Bowed By The Weight Of Centuries He Leans Upon His Hoe And Gazes On The Ground, The Emptiness Of Ages In His Face, And On His Back The Burden Of The World.

He Fed His Spirit With The Bread Of Books

At The Heart Of The Cyclone Tearing The Sky Is A Place Of Central Calm.