O Maternal Earth Which Rocks The Fallen

There Is The Silence Of Age, Too Full Of Wisdom For The Tongue To Utter It In Words Intelligible To Those Who Have Not Lived The Great Range Of Life.

Why, A Moral Truth Is A Hollow Tooth Which Must Be Propped With Gold.

A Giant As We Hoped, In Truth, A Dwarf; A Barrel Of Slop That Shines On Lethe's Wharf', Which At First Seemed A Vessel With Sweet Wine For Thirsty Lips. So Down The Swift Decline You Went Through Sloven Spirit, Craven Heart And Cynic Indolence. And Here The Art Of Molding Clay Has Caught You For The Nonce And Made Your Shame Our Shame ~ Your Head In Bronze!

Immortality Is Not A Gift, Immortality Is An Achievement; And Only Those Who Strive Mightily Shall Possess It.

This Is Darrow, Inadequately Scrawled, With His Young, Old Heart, And His Drawl, And His Infinite Paradox And His Sadness, And Kindness, And His Artist Sense That Drives Him To Shape His Life To Something Harmonious, Even Against The Schemes Of God.