Only The Heart Without A Stain Knows

Whether One Show One's Self A Man Of Genius In Science Or Compose A Song, The Only Point Is, Whether The Thought, The Discovery, The Deed, Is Living And Can Live On.

Higher Yet And Higher Out Of Clouds And Night, Nearer Yet And Nearer Rising To The Light - Light, Serene And Holy Where My Soul May Rest, Purified And Lowly, Sanctified And Blest.

We Don't Get To Know People When They Come To Us; We Must Go To Them To Find Out What They Are Like.

Men Are So Inclined To Content Themselves With What Is Commonest; The Spirit And The Senses So Easily Grow Dead To The Impressions Of The Beautiful And Perfect, That Every One Should Study, By All Methods, To Nourish In His Mind The Faculty Of Feeling These Things. ...for This Reason, One Ought Every Day At Least, To Hear A Little Song, Read A Good Poem, See A Fine Picture, And, If It Were Possible, To Speak A Few Reasonable Words.

The Universal Subjugator, The Commonplace.