We Also Maintain - Again With Perfect

All Myths That Are Something More Than Fancies Gain Rather Than Lose In Value With Time, By Reason Of The Accretions Of Human Experience.

Nature Is Forever Arriving And Forever Departing, Forever Approaching, Forever Vanishing; But In Her Vanishings There Seems To Be Ever The Waving Of A Hand, In All Her Partings A Promise Of Meetings Farther Along The Road.

Wild Oats Will Get Sown Some Time, And One Of The Arts Of Life Is To Sow Them At The Right Time.

There Is Something Mean In Human Nature That Prefers To Think Evil, That Gives A Willing Ear And A Ready Welcome To Calumny, A Sort Of Jealousy Of Goodness And Greatness And Things Of Good Report.

Though Actually The Work Of Man's Hands - Or, More Properly Speaking, The Work Of His Travelling Feet, - Roads Have Long Since Come To Seem So Much A Part Of Nature That We Have Grown To Think Of Them As A Feature Of The Landscape No Less Natural Than Rocks And Trees.