Slow Are The Steps Of

No Man Is Born Into The World Whose Work Is Not Born With Him. There Is Always Work, And Tools To Work With, For Those Who Will, And Blessed Are The Horny Hands Of Toil. The Busy World Shoves Angrily Aside The Man Who Stands With Arms Akimbo Until Occasion Tells Him What To Do; And He Who Waits To Have His Task Marked Out Shall Die And Leave His Errand Unfulfilled.

This Goin' Ware Glory Waits Ye Haint One Agreeable Feetur.

And The Choice Goes By Forever 'twixt That Darkness And That Light.

The Purely Great Whose Soul No Siren Passion Could Unsphere, Thou Nameless, Now A Power And Mixed With Fate.

The Devil Loves Nothing Better Than The Intolerance Of Reformers.