Happy Will That House Be In Which

All Things Are Moral. That Soul, Which Within Us Is A Sentiment, Outside Of Us Is A Law. We Feel Its Inspiration; Out There In History We Can See Its Fatal Strength.

What You Do Speaks So Loud That I Cannot Hear What You Say.

To Have Played And Laughed With Enthusiasm, And Sung With Exultation - This To To Have Succeeded.

Each Man Has An Aptitude Born With Him. Do Your Work.

Come, See The North-wind's Masonry, Out Of An Unseen Quarry Evermore Furnished With Tile, The Fierce Artificer Curves His White Bastions With Projected Roof Round Every Windward Stake, Or Tree, Or Door. Speeding, The Myriad-handed, His Wild Work So Fanciful, So Savage, Naught Cares He For Number Or Proportion.