Dreams Dawn And Fly: Friends Smile And

Time, So Complain'd Of, Who To No One Man Shows Partiality, Brings Round To All Men Some Undimm'd Hours.

Consider These People, Then, Their Way Of Life, Their Habits, Their Manners, The Very Tones Of Their Voice; Look At Them Attentively; Observe The Literature They Read, The Things Which Give Them Pleasure, The Words Which Come Forth Out Of Their Mouths, The Thoughts Which Make The Furniture Of Their Minds; Would Any Amount Of Wealth Be Worth Having With The Condition That One Was To Become Just Like These People By Having It?

Culture Is The Passion For Sweetness And Light, And (what Is More) The Passion For Making Them Prevail.

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.

It Does Not Try To Reach Down To The Level Of Inferior Classes; It Does Not Try To Win Them For This Or That Sect Of Its Own, With Ready-made Judgments And Watchwords Of Its Own. It Seeks To Away With Classes, To Make The Best That Has Been Taught And Known In The World Current Everywhere, To Make All Men Live In An Atmosphere Of Sweetness And Light, Where They May Use Ideas, As It Uses Them Itself, Freely--nourished, And Not Bound By Them.