Memory Itself Is An Internal Rumour.

The Spirit's Foe In Man Has Not Been Simplicity, But Sophistication.

Let A Man Once Overcome His Selfish Terror At His Own Finitude, And His Finitude Itself Is, In One Sense, Overcome.

A Soul Is But The Last Bubble Of A Long Fermentation In The World.

Skepticism Is The Chastity Of The Intellect, And It Is Shameful To Surrender It Too Soon Or To The First Comer; There Is Nobility In Preserving It Coolly And Proudly Through Long Youth, Until At Last, In The Ripeness Of Instinct And Discretion, It Can Be Safely Exchanged For Fidelity And Happiness.

America Is The Greatest Of Opportunities And The Worst Of Influences.