Simplicity Of Life, Even The Barest, Is

The Wind Is Not Helpless For Any Man's Need, Nor Falleth The Rain But For Thistle And Weed.

And The Deeds That Ye Do Upon This Earth, It Is For Fellowship's Sake That Ye Do Them.

With The Arrogance Of Youth, I Determined To Do No Less Than To Transform The World With Beauty. If I Have Succeeded In Some Small Way, If Only In One Small Corner Of The World, Amongst The Men And Women I Love, Then I Shall Count Myself Blessed, And Blessed, And Blessed, And The Work Goes On.

Beauty, Which Is What Is Meant By Art, Using The Word In Its Widest Sense, Is, I Contend, No Mere Accident To Human Life, Which People Can Take Or Leave As They Choose, But A Positive Necessity Of Life.

In Prison Wearily, Drearily, Half The Day Long, Flap The Great Banners High Over The Stone; Strangely And Eerily Sounds The Wind's Song, Bending The Banner-poles. While, All Alone, Watching The Loophole's Spark, Lie I, With Life All Dark, Feet Tethered, Hands Fettered Fast To The Stone, The Grim Walls, Square Lettered With Prisoned Men's Groan. Still Strain The Banner-poles Through The Wind's Song, Westward The Banner Rolls Over My Wrong.