The Heart Is An Astrologer That Always

A Good Action Is Never Lost; It Is A Treasure Laid Up And Guarded For The Doer's Need.

And Yet, And Yet, In These Our Ghostly Lives, Half Night, Half Day, Half Sleeping, Half Awake, How If Our Waking Life, Like That Of Sleep, Be All A Dream In That Eternal Life To Which We Wake Not Till We Sleep In Death

The Fox Is Very Cunning, But He Is More Cunning Who Catches The Fox.

Dreams Are Rough Copies Of The Waking Soul Yet Uncorrected Of The Higher Will, So That Men Sometimes In Their Dreams Confess An Unsuspected, Or Forgotten, Self; -since Dreaming, Madness, Passion, Are Akin In Missing Each That Salutory Rein Of Reason, And The Grinding Will Of Man.

Never Confide Your Secrets To Paper; It Is Like Throwing A Stone In The Air; And If You Know Who Throws The Stone, You Do Not Know Where It May Fall.