A Poem Round And Perfect As A

And In Any Case, To The Old Man, When The World Becomes Trite, The Triteness Arises Not So Much From A Cessation As From A Transference Of Interest. What Is Taken From This World Is Given To The Next. The Glory Is In The East In The Morning, It Is In The West In The Afternoon, And When It Is Dark The Splendour Is Irradiating The Realm Of The Under-world. He Would Only Follow.

Trifles Make Up The Happiness Or The Misery Of Mortal Life.

My Friend Is Not Perfect-no More Than I Am-and So We Suit Each Other Admirable.

The Only Thing A Man Knows Is Himself.

A Thought May Be Very Commendable As A Thought, But I Value It Chiefly As A Window Through Which I Can Obtain Insight On The Thinker.