It Is Not The Irregular Hours Or

The House Praises The Carpenter.

The Sea Is Masculine, The Type Of Active Strength. Look, What Egg-shells Are Drifting All Over It, Each One, Like Ours, Filled With Men In Ecstasies Of Terror, Alternating With Cockney Conceit, As The Sea Is Rough Or Smooth. Is This Sad-colored Circle An Eternal Cemetery?

If Thought Makes Free, So Does The Moral Sentiment. The Mixtures Of Spiritual Chemistry Refuse To Be Analyzed.

Obedience Alone Gives The Right To Command.

Whoso Would Be A Man, Must Be A Nonconformist. He Who Would Gather Immortal Palms Must Not Be Hindered By The Name Of Goodness, But Must Explore It If It Be Goodness. Nothing Is At Last Sacred But The Integrity Of Your Own Mind. Absolve You To Yourself, And You Shall Have The Suffrage Of The World.