Grains of rice counted- Can any one so spend life? Be spacious and wise.

A place is nothing, not even space, Unless at its heart a figure stands.

I should like to bring a case to trial: Prosperity versus Beauty, Cash registers teetering in a balance against the comfort of the soul.

Rapture's self is three parts sorrow.

Even pain Pricks to livelier living.

This is war: Boys flung into a breach Like shoveled earth; And old men, Broken, Driving rapidly before crowds of people In a glitter of silly decorations. Behind the boys And the old men, Life weeps, And shreds her garments To the blowing winds.

All books are either dreams or swords.

All books are either dreams or swords, You can cut, or you can drug, with words.

On the neck of the young man sparkles no gem so gracious as enterprise. Youth condemns; maturity condones.