There Are Times When Life Surprises One,

Nations Decay From Within More Often Than They Surrender To Outward Assault.

Idealism, That Gaudy Coloring Matter Of Passion, Fades When It Is Brought Beneath The Trenchant White Light Of Knowledge. Ideals, Like Mountains, Are Best At A Distance.

I Have Written Chiefly Because, Though I Have Often Dreaded The Necessity, I Have Found It More Painful, In The End, Not To Write.

One Cannot Lay A Foundation By Scattering Stones, Nor Is A Reputation For Good Work To Be Got By Strewing Volumes About The World.

What Depresses Me Is The Inevitable Way The Second Rate Forges Ahead And The Deserving Is Left Behind.