The Greatest Human Ideal Is

The Theatre, Like The Fresco, Is Art Fitted To Its Place. And Therefore It Is Above All Else The Human Art, The Living Art.

I Would Rather Have This Life Of Combat Than The Moral Calm And Mournful Stupor Of These Last Years. God Give Me Struggle, Enemies, Howling Crowds, All The Combot Of Which I Am Capable.

His (swami Vivekananda) Words Are Great Music, Phrases In The Style Of Beethoven, Stirring Rhythms Like The March Of Handel Choruses. I Cannot Touch These Sayings Of His, Scattered As They Are Through The Pages Of Books, At Thirty Years' Distance, Without Receiving A Thrill Through My Body Like An Electric Shock. And What Shocks, What Transports, Must Have Been Produced When In Burning Words They Issued From The Lips Of The Hero!

Let Us Seek Truth Everywhere; Let Us Cull It Wherever We Can Find Its Blossom Or Its Seed. Having Found The Seed, Let Us Scatter It To The Winds Of Heaven. Where Ever It May Blow, It Will Germinate. There Is No Lack In This Wide Universe Of Souls That Will Form The New Ground.

One Makes Mistakes; That Is Life. But It Is Never A Mistake To Have Loved.