Like plants in mines, which never saw the sun, But dream of him, and guess where he may be, And do the best to climb, and get to him.

Progress is The law of life, man is not Man as yet.

Finds progress, man's distinctive mark alone, Not God's, and not the beast's; God is, they are, Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be.

Progress, man's distinctive mark alone, Not God's, and not the beasts': God is, they are, Man partly is and wholly hopes to be

They're having to scramble more to keep this influence peddling under the radar, ... Is that progress?

What is art But life upon the larger scale, the higher, When, graduating up in a spiral line Of still expanding and ascending gyres, It pushed toward the intense significance Of all things, hungry for the Infinite? Art's life--and where we live, we suffer and toil.