Time Is, After All, The Greatest Of

It Is Only The Intellect That Can Be Thoroughly And Hideously Wicked. It Can Forget Everything In The Attainment Of Its Ends. The Heart Recoils; In Its Retired Some Drops Of Childhood's Dew Still Linger, Defying Manhood's Fiery Noon.

Console Yourself, Dear Man And Brother; Whatever You May Be Sure Of, Be Sure At Least Of This, That You Are Dreadfully Like Other People. Human Nature Has A Much Greater Genius For Sameness Than For Originality.

Aspiration Sees Only One Side Of Every Question; Possession Many.

The Story Of Any One Man's Real Experience Finds Its Startling Parallel In That Of Every One Of Us.

If We See Light At The End Of The Tunnel, It's The Light Of The Oncoming Train.