A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.
We used to build civilizations. Now we build shopping malls.
Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.
God hath yoked to guilt her pale tormentor,--misery.
It is natural human impulse to think of evolution as a long chain of improvements, of a never-ending advance towards largeness and complexity in a word, towards us. We flatter ourselves. Most of the real diversity in evolution has been small-scale. We large things are just flukes an interesting side branch.
No man of woman born, coward or brave, can shun his destiny.
The sounds I had heard seemed worthy to mingle with this bright and perfumed atmosphere, and to thrill the beautiful scenery around me.