The Wise Man Knows Nothing If He

All The Arts, Which Have A Tendency To Raise Man In The Scale Of Being, Have A Certain Common Band Of Union, And Are Connected, If I May Be Allowed To Say So, By Blood-relationship With One Another.

We Must Not Only Obtain Wisdom: We Must Enjoy Her.

No Sober Person Dances.

A Wise Man Does Nothing By Constraint.

Death Darkens His Eyes, And Unplumes His Wings, Yet The Sweetest Song Is The Last He Sings: Live So, My Love, That When Death Shall Come, Swan-like And Sweet It May Waft Thee Home.