Every Man Bears Something Within Him That,

Few Rash Of Any Modern Nation Have A Proper Sense Of An Aesthetical Whole; They Praise And Blame By Parts; They Are Charmed By Passages. And Who Has Greater Reason To Rejoice In This Than Actors, Since The Stage Is Ever But A Patched And Piecemeal Matter?

Why Should We Not Recognize In The Lightning, The Thunder, And The Storm Wind, The Approach Of An Overwhelming Power, And In The Scent Of Flowers And The Gently Rustling Zephyr The Presence Of A Being Full Of Love?

One Is Never Satisfied With The Portrait Of A Person That One Knows.

The Older We Get The More We Must Limit Ourselves If We Wish To Be Active.

The Sea Is Flowing Ever, The Land Retains It Never.