Noble Souls, Through Dust And Heat, Rise

The Rapture Of Pursuing Is The Prize The Vanquished Gain.

Look, Then, Into Thine Heart, And Write!

Not In The Clamor Of The Crowded Street, Not In The Shouts And Plaudits Of The Throng, But In Ourselves, Are Triumph And Defeat.

Music Is The Language Spoken By Angels.

In This World A Man Must Either Be Anvil Or Hammer.