Men Cease To Interest Us When We

To Live The Greatest Number Of Good Hours Is Wisdom.

Once You Make A Decision, The Universe Conspires To Make It Happen.

I--this Thought Which Is Called I--is The Mould Into Which The World Is Poured Like Melted Wax.

A Lady With Whom I Was Riding In The Forest Said To Me That The Woods Always Seemed To Her To Wait, As If The Genii Who Inhabit Them Suspend Their Deeds Until The Wayfarer Had Passed Onward; A Thought Which Poetry Has Celebrated In The Dance Of The Fairies, Which Breaks Off On The Approach Of Human Feet.

Miracle Comes To The Miraculous, Not To The Arithmetician.