In Order To Cure A Feeling Of

The Tree Is A Slow, Enduring Force Straining To Win The Sky.

And That Heart Which Was A Wild Garden Was Given To Him Who Only Loved Trim Lawns. And The Imbecile Carried The Princess Into Slavery.

An Administration, Like A Machine, Does Not Create. It Carries On.

The Seed Haunted By The Sun Never Fails To Find Its Way Between The Stones In The Ground. And The Pure Logician, If No Sun Draws Him Forth, Remains Entangled In His Logic.

No One Is Ever Satisfied Where He Is.