A Sanctity Hangs About The Sources Of

Our Occasional Madness Is Less Wonderful Than Our Occasional Sanity.

Bid, Then, The Tender Light Of Faith To Shine By Which Alone The Mortal Heart Is Led Unto The Thinking Of The Thought Divine.

For A Man Who Has Done His Natural Duty, Death Is As Natural As Sleep.

Philosophy Is A More Intense Sort Of Experience Than Common Life Is, Just As Pure And Subtle Music, Heard In Retirement, Is Something Keener And More Intense Than The Howling Of Storms Or The Rumble Of Cities.

An Ideal Cannot Wait For Its Realization To Prove Its Validity.