I Like People Who Like Plato.

How Silent, How Spacious, What Room For All, Yet Without Place To Insert An Atom--in Graceful Succession, In Equal Fullness, In Balanced Beauty, The Dance Of The Hours Goes Forward Still. Like An Odor Of Incense, Like A Strain Of Music, Like A Sleep, It Is Inexact And Boundless. It Will Not Be Dissected, Nor Unraveled, Nor Shown.

The Genius Of Life Is Friendly To The Noble, And, In The Dark, Brings Them Friends From Far.

Take Egotism Out And You Would Castrate The Benefactors.

The Beautiful Is Never Plentiful.

That Which We Do Not Call Education Is More Precious Than That Which We Call So.