Sunshine Cannot Bleach The Snow,

Europe Extends To The Alleghenies; America Lies Beyond.

Evil Is Merely Privative, Not Absolute: It Is Like Cold, Which Is The Privation Of Beat.

Every Day, The Sun; And, After Sunset, Night And Her Stars. Ever The Winds Blow; Ever The Grass Grows. Every Day, Men And Women, Conversing, Beholding And Beholden. The Scholar Is He Of All Men Whom This Spectacle Most Engages. He Must Settle Its Value In His Mind. What Is Nature To Him?

Only That Mind Draws Me Which I Cannot Read.

The Soul Circumscribes All Things.