Suspicion Often Creates What It Suspects.

Actually It Seems To Me That One Can Hardly Say Anything Either Bad Enough Or Good Enough About Life.

The Love Of Knowledge Is A Kind Of Madness.

The Present Is The Only Time In Which Any Duty May Be Done Or Grace Received.

We Know Nothing Of Religion Here: We Only Think Of Christ.

Music. A Meaningless Acceleration In The Rhythm Of Celestial Experience.