Names Are But Noise And

At The End Of Life Thoughts Hitherto Impossible Come To The Collected Mind, Like Good Spirits Which Let Themselves Down From The Shining Heights Of The Past.

Nothing Is So Atrocious As Fancy Without Taste.

Hatred Is Partial, But Love Is Still More So.

Religion Is Not In Want Of Art; It Rests On Its Own Majesty.

Never Let A Day Pass Without Looking At Some Perfect Work Of Art, Hearing Some Great Piece Of Music And Reading, In Part, Some Great Book.