If The Bee Disappeared Off The Face

Most Creatures Have A Vague Belief That A Very Precarious Hazard, A Kind Of Transparent Membrane, Divides Death From Love; And That The Profound Idea Of Nature Demands That The Giver Of Life Should Die At The Moment Of Giving.

It Is Death That Is The Guide Of Our Life, And Our Life Has No Goal But Death.

Our Reason May Prove What It Will: Our Reason Is Only A Feeble Ray That Has Issued From Nature.

At Every Crossway On The Path That Leads To The Future, Each Progressive Spirit Is Opposed By A Thousand Men Appointed To Guard The Past. Let Us Have No Fear That The Fair Towers Of Former Days Be Sufficiently Defended. The Least That The Most Timid Among Us Can Do Is Not To Add To The Immense Dead Weight That Nature Drags Along.

The Value Of Ourselves Is But The Value Of Our Melancholy And Our Disquiet.