Poor Fool! In Whose Petty Estimation All

The Decline Of Literature Indicates The Decline Of A Nation.

Know'st Thou Yesterday, Its Aim And Reason? Work'st Thou Will Today For Worthier Things? Then Calmly Wait The Morrow's Hidden Season, And Fear Thou Not, What Hap Soe'er It Brings

The Solution Of Every Problem Is Another Problem

No One Would Talk Much In Society If They Knew How Often They Misunderstood Others.

Art Is In Itself Noble; That Is Why The Artist Has No Fear Of What Is Common. This, Indeed, Is Already Ennobled When He Takes It Up.