When I Myself Had Twice Or Thrice

Painting Is Silent Poetry, And Poetry Is Painting That Speaks.

To Do An Evil Action Is Base; To Do A Good Action Without Incurring Danger Is Common Enough; But It Is The Part Of A Good Man To Do Great And Noble Deeds, Though He Risks Every Thing.

Of The Land Which The Romans Gained By Conquest From Their Neighbours, Part They Sold Publicly, And Turned The Remainder Into Common; This Common Land They Assigned To Such Of The Citizens As Were Poor And Indigent, For Which They Were To Pay Only A Small Acknowledgment Into The Public Treasury. But When The Wealthy Men Began To Offer Larger Rents, And Drive The Poorer People Out, It Was Enacted By Law That No Person Whatever Should Enjoy More Than Five Hundred Acres Of Ground.

They Are Wrong Who Think That Politics Is Like An Ocean Voyage Or A Military Campaign, Something To Be Done With Some Particular End In View, Something Which Leaves Off As Soon As That End Is Reached. It Is Not A Public Chore, To Be Got Over With. It Is A Way Of Life. It Is The Life Of A Domesticated Political And Social Creature Who Is Born With A Love For Public Life, With A Desire For Honor, With A Feeling For His Fellows; And It Lasts As Long As Need Be.

For, In The Language Of Heraclitus, The Virtuous Soul Is Pure And Unmixed Light, Springing From The Body As A Flash Of Lightning Darts From The Cloud. But The Soul That Is Carnal And Immersed In Sense, Like A Heavy And Dank Vapor, Can With Difficulty Be Kindled, And Caused To Raise Its Eyes Heavenward.