I--this Thought Which Is Called I--is The

My Joy In Friends, Those Sacred People, Is My Consolation.

Let Us Not Be Too Much Acquainted. I Would Have A Man Enter His House Through A Hall Filled With Heroic And Sacred Sculptures, That He Might Not Want The Hint Of Tranquillity And Self-poise.

He Is Only Rich Who Owns The Day. There Is No King, Rich Man, Fairy, Or Demon Who Possesses Such Power As That.

The Civilized Man Has Built A Coach, But Has Lost The Use Of His Feet.

Heaven Is Large, And Affords Space For All Modes Of Love And Fortitude.