. . . they who nobly fail will find The peace of the heroic mind, Will taste life's sacred joy, the joy Earth cannot give nor earth destroy. These things I see as the cloud clears, Here at the height of eighty years.
We all are blind until we seeThat in the human planNothing is worth the making ifIt does not make the man. Why build these cities gloriousIf man unbuilded goes?In vain we build the world, unlessThe builder also grows.