Every Now And Then A Man's Mind

The Character Of Every Act Depends Upon The Circumstances In Which It Is Done.

Blood Is A Destiny. One's Genius Descends In The Stream From Long Lines Of Ancestry.

And Silence, Like A Poultice, Comes To Heal The Blows Of Sound.

Every Man Is An Omnibus In Which His Ancestors Ride.

I Think It Not Improbable That Man, Like The Grub That Prepares A Chamber For The Winged Thing It Never Has Seen But Is To Be - That Man May Have Cosmic Destinies That He Does Not Understand.