The Public Is A Bad Guesser.

It Is An Impressive Truth That Sometimes In The Very Lowest Forms Of Duty, Less Than Which Would Rank A Man As A Villain, There Is, Nevertheless The Sublimest Ascent Of Self-sacrifice. To Do Less Would Class You As An Object Of Eternal Scorn, To Do So Much Presumes The Grandeur Of Heroism.

Out Of The Ruined Lodge And Forgotten Mansion, Bowers That Are Trodden Under Foot, And Pleasure-houses That Are Dust, The Poet Calls Up A Palingenesis.

Thou Hast The Keys Of Paradise, Oh, Just, Subtle, And Mighty Opium!

No Man Will Ever Unfold The Capacities Of His Own Intellect Who Does Not At Least Checker His Life With Solitude.

Fierce Sectarianism Breeds Fierce Latitudinarianism.