Even By Means Of Our Sorrows We

The More A Man Acts On His Own, The More He Develops Himself. In Large Associations He Is Too Prone To Become Merely An Instrument.

Besides The Pleasure Derived From Acquired Knowledge, There Lurks In The Mind Of Man, And Tinged With A Shade Of Sadness, An Unsatisfactory Longing For Something Beyond The Present, A Striving Towards Regions Yet Unknown And Unopened.

War Seems To Be One Of The Most Salutary Phenomena For The Culture Of Human Nature; And It Is Not Without Regret That I See It Disappearing More And More From The Scene.

The Mere Reality Of Life Would Be Inconceivably Poor Without The Charm Of Fancy, Which Brings In Its Bosom, No Doubt, As Many Vain Fears As Idle Hopes, But Lends Much Oftener To The Illusions It Calls Up A Gay Flattering Hue Than One Which Inspires Terror.

Map Reconciles Himself To Almost Any Event, However Trying, If It Happens In The Ordinary Course Of Nature. It Is The Extraordinary Alone That He Rebels Against. There Is A Moral Idea Associated With This Feeling; For The Extraordinary Appears To Be Something Like An Injustice Of Heaven.