Those Who Speak Ill Of The Spiritual

Literature, Like Nobility, Runs In The Blood.

The Confined Air Of A Metropolis Is Hurtful To The Minds And Bodies Of Those Who Have Never Lived Out Of It. It Is Impure, Stagnant--without Breathing-space To Allow A Larger View Of Ourselves Or Others--and Gives Birth To A Puny, Sickly, Unwholesome, And Degenerate Race Of Beings.

Grace In Women Has More Effect Than Beauty.

Avarice Is The Miser's Dream, As Fame Is The Poet's.

It Is Not Fit That Every Man Should Travel; It Makes A Wise Man Better, And A Fool Worse.