There Is No Outward Sign Of True

Nature! We Are Enveloped And Embraced By Her, Incapable Of Emerging From Her And Incapable Of Entering Her More Deeply. Unbidden And Unwarned, She Receives Us Into The Circuits Of Her Dance, Drifting Onward With Us Herself, Until We Grow Tired And Drop From Her Arms.

The True Poet Is Called To Take In The Splendor Of The World And For That Reason Will Always Be Inclined To Praise Rather Than Tofind Fault.

Every Beginning Is Cheerful.

No Skill Or Art Is Needed To Grow Old; The Trick Is To Endure It.

One Criticizes The English For Carrying Their Teapots Wherever They Go, Even Lugging Them Up Mount Etna. But Doesn't Every Nationhave Its Teapot, In Which, Even When Traveling, It Brews The Dried Bundles Of Herbs Brought From Home?