There is an inmost center in us all, where truth abides in fullness;....and, to know, rather consists in opening out a way where the imprisoned splendor may escape, then in effecting entry for a light supposed to be without.
In this world, who can do a thing, will not;And who would do it, cannot, I perceive:Yet the will's somewhat — somewhat, too, the power —And thus we half-men struggle.
The power of the night, the press of the storm, the post of the foe; where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, yet, the strong man must go.
The gray sea and the long black land; And the yellow half-moon large and low: And the startled little waves that leap In fiery ringlets from their sleep, As I gain the cove with pushing prow,And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.
Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more, One task more declined, one more footpath untrod,One more devils’-triumph and sorrow for angels, One wrong more to man, one more insult to God!
Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more,One task more declin'd, one more foot-path ontrod,One more devil's triumph and sorrow for angels,One wrong more to man, one more insult to God!
Grow old with me! The best is yet to be The last of life for which the first was made: Our times are in his hands Who sayeth a whole I plant Youth shows but half Trust God see all nor be afraid.
Like dogs in a wheel, birds in a cage, or squirrels in a chain, ambitious men still climb and climb, with great labor, and incessant anxiety, but never reach the top.
White shall not neutralize the black, nor good compensate bad in man, absolve him so: life's business being just the terrible choice.