Well-bred Instinct Meets Reason Halfway

Nothing Can Be Lower Or More Wholly Instrumental Than The Substance And Cause Of All Things.

With You A Part Of Me Hath Passed Away; For In The Peopled Forest Of My Mind A Tree Made Leafless By This Wintry Wind Shall Never Don Again Its Green Array. Chapel And Fireside, Country Road And Bay, Have Something Of Their Friendliness Resigned; Another, If I Would, I Could Not Find, And I Am Grown Much Older In A Day. But Yet I Treasure In My Memory Your Gift Of Charity, And Young Hearts Ease, And The Dear Honour Of Your Amity; For These Once Mine, My Life Is Rich With These. And I Scarce Know Which Part May Greater Be,-- What I Keep Of You, Or You Rob From Me.

A Dream Is Always Simmering Below The Conventional Surface Of Speech And Reflection.

History Is A Pack Of Lies About Events That Never Happened Told By People Who Weren't There.

Life Is Not A Spectacle Or A Feast; It Is A Predicament.