Obtuseness Is Sometimes A Virtue.

That Which Happens To The Soil When It Ceases To Be Cultivated By The Social Man Happens To Man Himself When He Foolishly Forsakes Society For Solitude; The Brambles Grow Up In His Desert Heart.

Familiarity Is The Root Of The Closest Friendships, As Well As The Interests Hatreds.

Speech Is External Thought, And Thought Internal Speech.

Mind Is The Partial Side Of Men; The Heart Is Everything.

Rumor, Once Started, Rushes On Like A River, Until It Mingles With, And Is Lost In The Sea.