The Proof That A Philosopher

That The American, By Temperament, Worked To Excess, Was True; Work And Whiskey Were His Stimulants; Work Was A Form Of Vice; But He Never Cared Much For Money Or Power After He Earned Them.

The Philosopher Says--i Am, And The Church Scouts His Philosophy. She Answers:--no! You Are Not, You Have No Existence Of Your Own. You Were And Are And Ever Will Be Only A Part Of The Supreme I Am, Of Which The Church Is The Emblem.

As History Stands, It Is A Sort Of Chinese Play, Without End Andl Without Lesson. With These Impressions I Wrote The Last Line Of My History, Asking For A Round Century Before Going Further.

One Sought Not Absolute Truth. One Sought Only A Spool On Which To Wind The Thread Of History Without Breaking It.

American Art, Like The American Language And American Education, Was As Far As Possible Sexless.