But I Have Promises To Keep, And

Something There Is That Doesn't Love A Wall, And Wants It Down.

But Strictly Held By None, Is Loosely Bound By Countless Silken Ties Of Love And Thought To Everything On Earth The Compass Round, And Only By One's Going Slightly Taut In The Capriciousness Of Summer Air Is Of The Slightest Bondage Made Aware.

Everything Written Is As Good As It Is Dramatic. It Need Not Declare Itself In Form, But It Is Drama Or Nothing.

Everyone Asks For Freedom For Himself, The Man Free Love, The Businessman Free Trade, The Writer And Talker Free Speech And Free Press.

Of All Crimes The Worst Is To Steal The Glory From The Great And Brave, Even More Accursed Than To Rob The Grave.