Whatsoever Thy Hand Findeth To

Neither Had Watt Of The Steam Engine A Heroic Origin, Any Kindred With The Princes Of This World. The Princes Of This World Were Shooting Their Partridges... While This Man With Blackened Fingers, With Grim Brow, Was Searching Out, In His Workshop, The Fire-secret.

There Is But One Temple In This Universe: The Body. We Speak To God Whenever We Lay Our Hands Upon It.

The Merit Of Originality Is Not Novelty; It Is Sincerity. The Believing Man Is The Original Man; Whatsoever He Believes, He Believes It For Himself, Not For Another.

Courtesy Is The Due Of Man To Man; Not Of Suit-of-clothes To Suit-of-clothes.

Imagination Is A Poor Matter When It Has To Part Company With Understanding.