The Words Of A Dead Man Are

If It Form The One Landscape That We The Inconstant Ones Are Consistently Homesick For, This Is Chiefly Because It Dissolves In Water.

Literary Confessors Are Contemptible, Like Beggars Who Exhibit Their Sores For Money, But Not So Contemptible As The Public That Buys Their Books.

The Trees Encountered On A Country Stroll Reveal A Lot About That Country's Soul ... A Culture Is No Better Than Its Woods.

Doom Is Dark And Deeper Than Any Sea-dingle.

We Were Put On This Earth To Help Others. Why Others Were Put Here Is Beyond Me.