I Love All Men Who Think, Even

He Is The Best Gentleman That Is The Son Of His Own Deserts, And Not The Degenerated Heir Of Another's Virtue.

God In His Harmony Has Equal Ends For Cedar That Resists And Reed That Bends; For Good It Is A Woman Sometimes Rules, Holds In Her Hand The Power, And Manners, Schools, And Laws, And Mind; Succeeding Master Proud, With Gentle Voice And Smiles She Leads The Crowd, The Somber Human Troop.

One Is Not Idle Because One Is Absorbed. There Is Both Visible And Invisible Labor. To Contemplate Is To Toil, To Think Is To Do. The Crossed Arms Work, The Clasped Hands Act. The Eyes Upturned To Heaven Are An Act Of Creation.

Let Us Have Compassion For Those Under Chastisement. Alas, Who Are We Ourselves? Who Am I And Who Are You? Whence Do We Come And Is It Quite Certain That We Did Nothing Before We Were Born? This Earth Is Not Without Some Resemblance To A Gaol. Who Knows But That Man Is A Victim Of Divine Justice? Look Closely At Life. It Is So Constituted That One Senses Punishment Everywhere.

We Should Judge A Man Much More Surely From What He Dreams Than From What He Thinks.