Insincerity Is Always Weakness; Sincerity Even In

The Magic Of The Pen Lies In The Concentration Of Your Thoughts Upon One Object.

A Man May Be Buoyed Up By The Efflation Of His Wild Desires To Brave Any Imaginable Peril; But He Cannot Calmly See One He Loves Braving The Same Peril; Simply Because He Cannot Feel Within Turn That Which Prompts Another. He Sees The Danger, And Feels Not The Power That Is To Overcome It.

All Good Literature Rests Primarily On Insight.

The Air Is Crowded With Birds -- Beautiful, Tender, Intelligent Birds -- To Whom Life Is A Song.

Many A Genius Has Been Slow Of Growth. Oaks That Flourish For A Thousand Years Do Not Spring Up Into Beauty Like A Reed.