Nothing Is Quite Beautiful Alone; Nothing But

Nor Sequent Centuries Could Hitorbit And Sum Of Shakespeare's Wit.

Life Is In Short Cycles Or Periods; We Are Quickly Tired, But We Have Rapid Rallies. A Man Is Spent By His Work, Starved, Prostrate; He Will Not Lift His Hand To Save His Life; He Can Never Think More. He Sinks Into Deep Sleep And Wakes With Renewed Youth, With Hope, Courage, Fertile In Resources, And Keen For Daring Adventure.

The Universal Does Not Attract Us Until Housed In An Individual.

When The Gods Come Among Men, They Are Not Known.

Talent For Talent's Sake Is A Bauble And A Show. Talent Working With Joy In The Cause Of Universal Truth Lifts The Possessor To New Power As A Benefactor.