Meek Young Men Grow Up In Libraries.

Sanity Is Very Rare; Every Man Almost And Every Woman Has A Dash Of Madness.

Light Is The First Of Painters. There Is No Object So Foul That Intense Light Will Not Make It Beautiful.

We Wake From One Dream Into Another Dream.

The Love That You Withhold Is The Pain That You Carry.

Converse With A Mind That Is Grandly Simple, And Literature Looks Like Word-catching. The Simplest Utterances Are Worthiest To Bewritten, Yet Are They So Cheap, And So Things Of Course, That, In The Infinite Riches Of The Soul, It Is Like Gathering A Few Pebbles Off The Ground, Or Bottling A Little Air In A Phial, When The Whole Earth And The Whole Atmosphere Are Ours.