Passion is power, And, kindly tempered, saves. All things declare Struggle hath deeper peace than sleep can bring. - William Vaughn Moody

The gods despise enforcèd offerings.
When the heart brings its dearest and its last
Then only will they hear—if then, if then!

Hark, below, the many-voiced earth,
The chanting of the old religious trees,
Rustle of far-off waters, woven sounds
Of small and multitudinous lives awake,
Peopling the grasses and the pools with joy,
Uttering their meaning to the mystic night!

Bring me your children hither. … Unto this twain, man-child and womanchild, I give the passion of this element; This seed of longing, substance of this love; This power, this purity, this annihilation. Let their hands light the altar of the world. 'T is yours forever. I have brought it home!