The Head Best Leaves To

All Unrest Is But The Struggle Of The Soul To Reassure Herself Of Her Inborn Immortality.

Hold Fast, Therefore, O Circular Philosopher, To Thy Centre, And Drive The Globe Along Its Orbit By The Momentum Of Thy Thought.

The Eyes Have A Property In Things And Territories Not Named In Any Title-deeds, And Are The Owners Of Our Choicest Possessions.

What Higher Praise Can We Bestow On Any One Than To Say Of Him That He Harbors Another's Prejudices With A Hospitality So Cordial As To Give Him, For The Time, The Sympathy Next Best To, If Indeed It Be Not Edification In, Charity Itself. For What Disturbs More And Distracts Mankind Than The Uncivil Manners That Cleave Man From Man?

Pleasure, That Immortal Essence, The Beauteous Bead Sparkling In The Cup, Effervesces Soon And Subsides.