We Never Know What's In Us Till

George Eliot Has The Heart Of Sappho; But The Face, With The Long Proboscis, The Protruding Teeth Of The Apocalyptic Horse, Betrayed Animality.

Not Till The Fire Is Dying In The Grate, Look We For Any Kinship With The Stars. Oh, Wisdom Never Comes When It Is Gold, And The Great Price We Paid For It Full Worth: We Have It Only When We Are Half Earth. Little Avails That Coinage To The Old!

Chance Works For Us When We Are Good Captains.

Cynicism Is Intellectual Dandyism.

Speech Is The Small Change Of Silence.