Memory Is A Gulf That A Word

One Can No More Keep The Mind From Returning To An Idea Than The Sea From Returning To A Shore. For A Sailor, This Is Called The Tide; In The Case Of The Guilty It Is Called Remorse. God Stirs Up The Soul As Well As The Ocean.

The Owl Goes Not Into The Nest Of The Lark.

There Is Nothing Like A Dream To Create The Future.

This First Glance Of A Soul Which Does Not Yet Know Itself Is Like Dawn In The Heavens; It Is The Awakening Of Something Radiant And Unknown.

The Wicked Envy And Hate; It Is Their Way Of Admiring.