The House Praises The Carpenter.

The Lover Is Made Happier By His Love Than The Object Of His Affection.

I Cannot Often Enough Say, That A Man Is Only A Relative And Representative Nature. Each Is A Hint Of The Truth, But Far Enough From Being That Truth, Which Yet He Quite Newly And Inevitably Suggests To Us. If I Seek It In Him, I Shall Not Find It.

We Are Wiser Than We Know.

For It Is Only The Finite That Has Wrought And Suffered; The Infinite Lies Stretched In Smiling Repose.

If You Will Not Lend Me The Money, How Can I Pay You?