Truth Is The Summit Of Being; Justice

A Low Self-love In The Parent Desires That His Child Should Repeat His Character And Fortune.

He Who Loves The Bristle Of Bayonets Only Sees In The Glitter What Beforehand He Feels In His Heart. It Is Avarice And Hatred; It Is That Quivering Lip, That Cold, Hating Eye, Which Built Magazines And Powder-houses.

There Is A Capacity Of Virtue In Us, And There Is A Capacity Of Vice To Make Your Blood Creep.

Is Not, Indeed, Every Man A Student, And Do Not All Things Exist For The Student's Behoof?

Draw, If Thou Canst, The Mystic Line, Severing Rightly His From Thine, Which Is Human, Which Divine.