Base And Crafty Cowards Are Like The

No Artist Knows In His Own Lifetime Whether What He Does Will Be The Slightest Good, Because It Takes At Least Seventy-five To A Hundred Years Before The Thing Begins To Sort Itself Out.

Who Questions Much, Shall Learn Much, And Retain Much.

Always Let Losers Have Their Words.

Nothing Is To Be Feared But Fear Itself. Nothing Grievous But To Yield To Grief.

Truth Is A Naked And Open Daylight, That Does Not Show The Masques, And Mummeries, And Triumphs Of The World, Half So Stately And Daintily As Candle-lights. . . A Mixture Of A Lie Doth Ever Add Pleasure