A Crowd, Proportionately To Its

A Crowd, Proportionately To Its Size, Magnifies All That In Its Units Pertains To The Emotions, And Diminishes All That In Them Pertains To Thought.

It Is Easier To Confess A Defect Than To Claim A Quality.

To Destroy Is Still The Strongest Instinct Of Our Nature.

A Man's Work Is Rather The Needful Supplement To Himself Than The Outcome Of It.

For A Young Man, Sleep Is A Sure Solvent Of Distress. There Whirls Not For Him In The Night Any So Hideous Phantasmagoria As Will Not Become, In The Clarity Of The Next Morning, A Spruce Procession For Him To Lead. Brief The Vague Horror Of His Awakening; Memory Sweeps Back To Him, And He Sees Nothing Dreadful After All. "why Not?" Is The Sun's Bright Message To Him, And "why Not Indeed?" His Answer.