A Forte Always Makes A Foible.

The Mind Does Not Create What It Perceives, Any More Than The Eye Creates The Rose.

The World Is All Outside, It Has No Inside.

To Have Played And Laughed With Enthusiasm, And Sung With Exultation - This To To Have Succeeded.

Look Out Into The July Night, And See The Broad Belt Of Silver Flame Which Flashes Up The Half Of Heaven, Fresh And Delicate As The Bonfires Of The Meadow-flies. Yet The Powers Of Numbers Cannot Compute Its Enormous Age,—lasting As Space And Time,—embosomed In Time And Space.

The Masses Have No Habit Of Self-reliance Or Original Action.