Vague Memories Hang About The Mind Like

And We Must Learn To Accommodate Ourselves To The Discovery That Some Of Those Cunningly-fashioned Instruments Called Human Souls Have Only A Very Limited Range Of Music, And Will Not Vibrate In The Least Under A Touch That Fills Others With Tremulous Rapture Or Quivering Agony.

It Is Surely Better To Pardon Too Much, Than To Condemn Too Much.

Iteration, Like Friction, Is Likely To Generate Heat Instead Of Progress.

We Could Never Have Loved The Earth So Well If We Had Had No Childhood In It.

If We Had A Keen Vision And Feeling Of All Ordinary Human Life, It Would Be Like Hearing The Grass Grow And The Squirrel's Heart Beat, And We Should Die Of That Roar Which Lies On The Other Side Of Silence.