To Those Who Study Her, Nature Reveals

In A Cat's Eye, All Things Belong To Cats.

To Have Passed Through Life And Never Experienced Solitude Is To Have Never Known Oneself. To Have Never Known Oneself Is To Have Never Known Anyone.

An Abundance Of Some Good Things Is Perfectly Compatible With The Scarcity Of Others; That Life Is Everywhere Precarious, Man Everywhere Small.

The Mind Leaps, And Leaps Perhaps With A Sort Of Elation, Through The Immensities Of Space, But The Spirit, Frightened And Cold, Longs To Have Once More Above Its Head The Inverted Bowl Beyond Which May Lie Whatever Paradise Its Desires May Create.

Rhetoric Takes No Real Account Of The Art In Literature And Morality Takes No Account Of The Art In Life.