In The Progress Of Personality, First Comes

Subjection To Fear Is Weakness, Bondage, Feverish Unrest. To Be Afraid Is To Have No Soul That We Can Call Our Own; It Is To Be At The Beck And Call Of Alien Powers, To Be Chained And Driven And Tormented; It Is To Lose The Life Itself In The Anxious Care To Keep It.

For Ever So Our Thoughtful Hearts Repeaton Fields Of Triumph Dirges Of Defeat;and Still We Turn On Gala-days To Treadamong The Rustling Memories Of The Dead.

Fidelity Is Simply Daring To Be True In Small Things As Well As Great.

Man Said, "i Am Tired Of Kings! Sons Of The Robber-chiefs Of Yore, They Make Me Pay For Their Lust And Their War; I Am The Puppet, They Pull The Strings; The Blood Of My Heart Is The Wine They Drink. I Will Govern Myself For Awhile I Think, And See What That Brings!

The Worlds In Which We Live At Heart Are One, The World "i Am," The Fruit Of "i Have Done"; And Underneath These Worlds Of Flower And Fruit, The World "i Love,"--the Only Living Root.