You Shall Be Held Down

A Man's True Wealth Is The Good He Does In The World.

O Love, Whose Lordly Hand Has Bridled My Desires, And Raised My Hunger And My Thirst To Dignity And Pride, Let Not The Strong In Me And The Constant Eat The Bread Or Drink The Wine That Tempt My Weaker Self. Let Me Rather Starve, And Let My Heart Parch With Thirst, And Let Me Die And Perish, Ere I Stretch My Hand To A Cup You Did Not Fill, Or A Bowl You Did Not Bless.

Youth Is A Beautiful Dream, On Whose Brightness Books Shed A Blinding Dust. Will Ever The Day Come When The Wise Link The Joy Of Knowledge To Youth's Dream? Will Ever The Day Come When Nature Becomes The Teacher Of Man, Humanity His Book And Life His School? Youth's Joyous Purpose Cannot Be Fulfilled Until That Day Comes. Too Slow Is Our March Toward Spiritual Elevation, Because We Make So Little Use Of Youth's Ardor.

If It Were Not For Guests All Houses Would Be Graves.

For That Which Is Boundless In You Abides In The Mansion Of The Sky, Whose Door Is The Morning Mist, And Whose Windows Are The Songs And The Silences Of Night.