Obedience Decks The Christian Most.

Everlastingly Chained To A Single Little Fragment Of The Whole, Man Himself Develops Into Nothing But A Fragment; Everlastingly In His Ear The Monotonous Sound Of The Wheel That He Turns, He Never Develops The Harmony Of His Being, And Instead Of Putting The Stamp Of Humanity Upon His Own Nature, He Becomes Nothing More Than The Imprint Of His Occupation Or Of His Specialized Knowledge.

Joy, In Nature's Wide Dominion, Mightiest Cause Of All Is Found; And 'tis Joy That Moves The Pinion When The Wheel Of Time Goes Round.

The World's History Is Constant, Like The Laws Of Nature, And Simple, Like The Souls Of Men. The Same Conditions Continually Produce The Same Results.

Great Souls Suffer In Silence.

You Worthy Critics, Or Whatever You May Call Yourselves, Are Ashamed Or Afraid Of The Momentary And Passing Madness Which Is Found In All Real Creators, The Longer Or Shorter Duration Of Which Distinguishes The Thinking Artist From The Dreamer. Hence Your Complaints Of Unfruitfulness, For You Reject Too Soon And Discriminate Too Severely.