Art Still Has Truth. Take Refuge There.

Others Abide Our Question. Thou Art Free. We Ask And Ask. Thou Smilest And Art Still, Out-topping Knowledge.

It Is - Last Stage Of All When We Are Frozen Up Within, And Quite The Phantom Of Ourselves To Hear The World Applaud The Hollow Ghost Which Blamed The Living Man

One Must, I Think, Be Struck More And More The Longer One Lives, To Find How Much In Our Present Society A Man's Life Of Each Day Depends For Its Solidity And Value Upon Whether He Reads During That Day, And Far More Still On What He Reads During It.

Nature Herself Seems, I Say, To Take The Pen Out Of His Hand, And To Write For Him With Her Own Bare, Sheer, Penetrating Power.

Culture Is Properly Described As The Love Of Perfection; It Is A Study Of Perfection.