We Touch Heaven When We Lay Our

One Should, When Overwhelmed By The Shadow Of A Giant, Move Aside And See If The Colossal Shadow Isn't Merely That Of A Pygmy Blocking Out The Sun.

Nature Is An Aeolian Harp, A Musical Instrument Whose Tones Are The Re-echo Of Higher Strings Within Us.

Friendship, Love, And Piety Ought To Be Handled With A Sort Of Mysterious Secrecy; They Ought To Be Spoken Of Only In The Rare Moments Of Perfect Confidence, To Be Mutually Understood In Silence. Many Things Are Too Delicate To Be Thought; Many More, To Be Spoken.

Philosophy Is Properly Home-sickness; The Wish To Be Everywhere At Home.

Everywhere We Seek The Absolute, And Always We Find Only Things.