Thou Hast The Keys Of

There Is First The Literature Of Knowledge, And Secondly, The Literature Of Power. The Function Of The First Is--to Teach; The Function Of The Second Is--to Move, The First Is A Rudder, The Second An Oar Or A Sail. The First Speaks To The Mere Discursive Understanding; The Second Speaks Ultimately, It May Happen, To The Higher Understanding Or Reason, But Always Through Affections Of Pleasure And Sympathy.

Rightly It Is Said Of Utter, Utter Misery, That It 'cannot Be Remembered'; Itself, Being A Rememberable Thing, Is Swallowed Up In Its Own Chaos.

A Promise Is Binding In The Inverse Ratio Of The Numbers To Whom It Is Made.

All Parts Of Knowledge Have Their Origin In Metaphysics, And Finally, Perhaps, Revolve Into It.

It Is An Impressive Truth That Sometimes In The Very Lowest Forms Of Duty, Less Than Which Would Rank A Man As A Villain, There Is, Nevertheless The Sublimest Ascent Of Self-sacrifice. To Do Less Would Class You As An Object Of Eternal Scorn, To Do So Much Presumes The Grandeur Of Heroism.