Winter Is The Night Of Vegetation.

The Cure For Tender Sensibilities Is To Make More Of Our Objects And Less Of Our Selves.

Our Opinions Partake, More Or Less, Of The Prejudices Of Our Class, Party, Or Sect. We Are All Largely Pledged, Through Interest, Affection, Or Passion, To Particular Classes Of Opinion, And The Strength Of Efforts To Get Released From These Pledges, Is The Measure Of Our Advancement.

There Is No Sense Of Weariness Like That Which Closes In A Day Of Eager And Unintermittent Pursuit Of Pleasure. The Apple Is Eaten, But "the Core Sticks In The Throat." Expectation Has Then Given Way To Ennui, Appetite To Satiety.

I Once Asked A Distinguished Artist What Place He Gave To Labor In Art. "labor," He In Effect Said, "is The Beginning, The Middle, And The End Of Art." Turning Then To Another--"and You," I Inquired, "what Do You Consider As The Great Force In Art?" "love," He Replied. In Their Two Answers I Found But One Truth.

The Method Of The Enterprising Is To Plan With Audacity And Execute With Vigor.