I Should Not Dare To Call My

The Man, Most Man, Works Best For Men, And, If Most Men Indeed, He Gets His Manhood Plainest From His Soul: While, Obviously, This Stringent Soul Itself Obeys Our Old Rules Of Development; The Spirit Ever Witnessing In Ours, And Love, The Soul Of Soul, Within The Soul, Evolving It Sublimely.

A Good Neighbor Sometimes Cuts Your Morning Up To Mince-meat Of The Very Smallest Talk, Then Helps To Sugar Her Bohea At Night With Your Reputation.

For Poets (bear The Word) Half-poets Even, Are Still Whole Democrats.

Pan Is Dead! Great Pan Is Dead! Pan, Pan Is Dead!

Behold Me! I Am Worthy Of Thy Loving, For I Love Thee!