The Only Happiness A Brave Person Ever

In The Poorest Cottage Are Books: Is One Book, Wherein For Several Thousands Of Years The Spirit Of Man Has Found Light, And Nourishment, And An Interpreting Response To Whatever Is Deepest In Him.

Love Not Pleasure; Love God. This Is The Everlasting Yea, Wherein All Contradiction Is Solved.

The True Eye For Talent Presupposes The True Reverence For It.

O Heaven, It Is Mysterious, It Is Awful To Consider That We Not Only Carry Each A Future Ghost Within Him; But Are, In Very Deed, Ghosts!

He Who Would Write Heroic Poems Should Make His Whole Life A Heroic Poem.