Manners, -- The final and perfect flower of noble character.

And every grief that mortals shareFound pity in his tenderness.

Life is arched with changing skies:Rarely are they what they seem:Children we of smiles and sighs --Much we know, but more we dream.

The fault line of race is a paramount factor in keeping us from realizing our potential as a state and as a nation. The elimination of this line is what I think this institute is about. . . . Our task in the final analysis is to cause more of us to look in the mirror.

The golden time of Long Ago.

When will the dead world cease to dream,When will the morning break?

Though all the bards of earth were dead,And all their music passed away,What Nature wishes should be saidShe'll find the rightful voice to say.