No Alchymy To Saving.

In The House Of A Fidler, All Fiddle. [in The House Of The Fiddler All Fiddle.]

The Way Is An Ill Neighbour.

True Beauty Lives On High. Ours Is But A Flame Borrowed Thence.

Science Stands, A Too Competant Servant, Behind Her Wrangling Underbred Masters, Holding Out Resources, Devices, And Remedies They Are Too Stupid To Use. ... And On Its Material Side, A Modern Utopia Must Needs Present These Gifts As Taken.

He That Contemplates Hath A Day Without Night.