Nature Is A Revelation Of God; Art

And The Wind Plays On Those Great Sonorous Harps, The Shrouds And Masts Of Ships.

Quotes About Life Tell Me Not, In Mournful Numbers, Life Is But An Empty Dream! For The Soul Is Dead That Slumbers, And Things Are Not What They Seem. Life Is Real! Life Is Earnest! And The Grave Is Not Its Goal; Dust Thou Art; To Dust Returnest, Was Not Spoken Of The Soul.

I Have A Passion For Ballad. . . . They Are The Gypsy Children Of Song, Born Under Green Hedgerows In The Leafy Lanes And Bypaths Of Literature,--in The Genial Summertime.

There Rises The Moon, Broad And Tranquil, Through The Branches Of A Walnut Tree On A Hill Opposite. I Apostrophize It In The Words Of Faust; "o Gentle Moon, That Lookest For The Last Time Upon My Agonies!" --or Something To That Effect.

With Useless Endeavour Forever, Forever, Is Sisyphus Rolling His Stone Up The Mountain!