As Contagion Of Sickness Makes Sickness, Contagion

Life Is Energy, And Energy Is Creativity. And Even When Individuals Pass On, The Energy Is Retained In The Work Of Art, Locked In It And Awaiting Release If Only Someone Will Take The Time And The Care To Unlock It.

Beauty Is Everlasting And Dust Is For A Time.

The Ocean, Under The Pulsation Of Lighthouses And Noise Of Bell Buoys, Advances As Usual, Looking As If It Were Not That Ocean In Which Dropped Things Are Bound To Sink-- In Which If They Turn And Twist, It Is Neither With Volition Nor Consciousness.

When One Cannot Appraise Out Of One's Own Experience, The Temptation To Blunder Is Minimized, But Even When One Can, Appraisal Seems Chiefly Useful As Appraisal Of The Appraiser.

There Never Was A War That Was Not Inward; I Must Fight Till I Have Conquered In Myself What Causes War.