The Beauty Seen Is Partly In Him

It Is Ever The Invisible That Is The Object Of Our Profoundest Worship. With The Lover It Is Not The Seen But The Unseen That He Muses Upon.

There Is No Sense Of Weariness Like That Which Closes In A Day Of Eager And Unintermittent Pursuit Of Pleasure. The Apple Is Eaten, But "the Core Sticks In The Throat." Expectation Has Then Given Way To Ennui, Appetite To Satiety.

There Is A German Proverb Which Says That Take-it-easy And Live-long Are Brothers.

Winter Is The Night Of Vegetation.

Perhaps The Heroic Element In Our Natures Is Exhibited To The Best Advantage, Not In Going From Success To Success, And So On Through A Series Of Triumphs, But In Gathering, On The Very Field Of Defeat Itself, The Materials For Renewed Efforts, And In Proceeding, With No Abatement Of Heart Or Energy, To Form Fresh Designs Upon The Very Ruins And Ashes Of Blasted Hopes. Yes, It Is This Indomitable Persistence In A Purpose, Continued Alike Through Defeat And Success, That Makes, More Than Aught Else, The Hero.