Proportion Is Almost Impossible To Human Beings.

Masses Are Rude, Lame, Unmade, Pernicious In Their Demands And Influence, And Need Not To Be Flattered, But To Be Schooled. I Wish Not To Concede Anything To Them, But To Tame, Drill, Divide, And Break Them Up, And Draw Individuals Out Of Them.

Truth Is Handsomer Than The Affectation Of Love. Your Goodness Must Have Some Edge To It, Else It Is None.

But Man Postpones Or Remembers; He Does Not Live In The Present, But With Reverted Eye Laments The Past, Or, Heedless Of The Riches That Surround Him, Stands On Tiptoe To Foresee The Future. He Cannot Be Happy And Strong Until He Too Lives With Nature In The Present, Above Time.

Very Few Of Our Race Can Be Said To Be Yet Finished Men. We Still Carry Sticking To Us Some Remains Of The Preceding Inferior Quadruped Organization. We Call These Millions Men; But They Are Not Yet Men. Half-engaged In The Soil, Pawing To Get Free, Man Needs All The Music That Can Be Brought To Disengage Him.

Out Of Love And Hatred, Out Of Earnings And Borrowings And Leadings And Losses; Out Of Sickness And Pain; Out Of Wooing And Worshipping; Out Of Traveling And Voting And Watching And Caring; Out Of Disgrace And Contempt, Comes Our Tuition In The Serene And Beautiful Laws.