Out Of The Shadows Of

The Mind Of The Scholar, If You Would Have It Large And Liberal, Should Come In Contact With Other Minds. It Is Better That His Armor Should Be Somewhat Bruised By Rude Encounters Even, Than Hang Forever Rusting On The Wall.

Sunday Is The Golden Clasp That Binds Together The Volume Of The Week.

A Handful Of Red Sand From The Hot Clime Of Arab Deserts Brought, Within This Glass Becomes The Spy Of Time, The Minister Of Thought.

That Which The Fountain Sends Forth Returns Again To The Fountain.

A Young Critic Is Like A Boy With A Gun; He Fires At Every Living Thing He Sees. He Thinks Only Of His Own Skill, Not Of The Pain He Is Giving.