Thou Art To Me A

To Finish The Moment, To Find The Journey's End In Every Step Of The Road, To Live The Greatest Number Of Good Hours, Is Wisdom.

Why Should Not We Have A Poetry And Philosophy Of Insight And Not Of Tradition, And A Religion By Revelation To Us, And Not The History Of Theirs?

Every Body We Know Surrounds Himself With A Fine House, Fine Books, Conservatory, Gardens, Equipage, And All Manner Of Toys, As Screens To Interpose Between Himself And His Guest. Does It Not Seem As If Man Was Of A Very Sly, Elusive Nature, And Dreaded Nothing So Much As A Full Rencontre Front To Front With His Fellow?

Real Men Don't Conform To The Beliefs Of Others, Even When Society Has Concluded On What Is Good And True, But Maintain The Integrity Of Their Own Mind.

Who Looks Upon A River In A Meditative Hour And Is Not Reminded Of The Flux Of All Things?