Footfalls echo in the memory down the passage we did not take towards the door we never opened into the rose garden. My words echo thus, in your mind - T. S. Eliot

This is the land which ye Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.

The great ages did not perhaps produce much more talent than ours. But less talent was wasted.

When the Stranger says: “What is the meaning of this city ?
Do you huddle close together because you love each other?”
What will you answer? “We all dwell together
To make money from each other”? or “This is a community”?
Oh my soul, be prepared for the coming of the Stranger.
Be prepared for him who knows how to ask questions.