No One Ever Approaches Perfection Except By

The Confined Air Of A Metropolis Is Hurtful To The Minds And Bodies Of Those Who Have Never Lived Out Of It. It Is Impure, Stagnant--without Breathing-space To Allow A Larger View Of Ourselves Or Others--and Gives Birth To A Puny, Sickly, Unwholesome, And Degenerate Race Of Beings.

To Display The Greatest Powers, Unless They Are Applied To Great Purposes, Makes Nothing For The Character Of Greatness.

Experience Makes Us Wise.

What I Mean By Living To One's Self Is Living In The World, As In It, Not Of It.

I Like A Friend The Better For Having Faults That One Can Talk About.