There Is The Joy Of

Speech Is Our Second Possession, After The Soul-and Perhaps We Have No Other Possession In This World.

In The Secret Of Night, My Prayer Climbs Like The Liana, My Prayer Is, And I Am Not. It Grows, And I Perish. I Have Only My Hard Breath, My Reason And My Madness. I Cling To The Vine Of My Prayer. I Tend It At The Root Of The Stalk Of Night.

Let The Radiance Of My Enthusiasms Envelop The Poor Courtyard And The Bare Classroom. Let My Heart Be A Stronger Column And My Goodwill Purer Gold Than The Columns And Gold Of Rich Schools.

Love Beauty It Is The Shadow Of God On The Universe

There Is The Joy Of Being Healthy And Fair, But There Is Overall The Beauty, The Immense Joy Of Being Useful.