A Hermitage In The Forest Is The

My Means Are Sane, My Motives And My Object Mad.

All We Discover Has Been With Us Since The Sun Began To Roll; And Much We Discover, Is Not Worth The Discovering.

Think Of It. To Go Down To Posterity As A 'man Who Lived Among The Cannibals.'

The Profound Calm Which Only Apparently Precedes And Prophesies Of The Storm, Is Perhaps More Awful Than The Storm Itself; For Indeed, The Calm Is But The Wrapper And Envelop Of The Storm, And Contains It In Itself, As The Seemingly Harmless Rifle Holds The Fatal Powder, And The Ball, And The Explosion.

And The Visible World Seems Formed In Love, The Invisible Spheres Were Formed In Fright.