The Reward Of Labour Is

Mastership Hath Many Shifts Whereby It Striveth To Keep Itself Alive In The World. And Now Hear A Marvel: Whereas Thou Sayest These Two Times That Out Of One Man Ye May Get But One Man's Work, In Days To Come One Man Shall Do The Work Of A Hundred Men - Yea, Of A Thousand Or More: And This Is The Shift Of Mastership That Shall Make Many Masters And Many Rich Men.

No Pattern Should Be Without Some Sort Of Meaning.

Speak Not, Move Not, But Listen, The Sky Is Full Of Gold. No Ripple On The River, No Stir In Field Or Fold, All Gleams But Naught Doth Glisten, But The Far-off Unseen Sea. Forget Days Past, Heart Broken, Put All Memory By! No Grief On The Green Hillside, No Pity In The Sky, Joy That May Not Be Spoken Fills Mead And Flower And Tree.

There Was A Knight Came Riding By In Early Spring, When The Roads Were Dry; And He Heard That Lady Sing At The Noon, Two Red Roses Across The Moon.

One Man With An Idea In His Head Is In Danger Of Being Considered A Madman: Two Men With The Same Idea In Common May Be Foolish, But Can Hardly Be Mad; Ten Men Sharing An Idea Begin To Act, A Hundred Draw Attention As Fanatics, A Thousand And Society Begins To Tremble, A Hundred Thousand And There Is War Abroad, And The Cause Has Victories Tangible And Real; And Why Only A Hundred Thousand? Why Not A Hundred Million And Peace Upon The Earth? You And I Who Agree Together, It Is We Who Have To Answer That Question.