Yet Through All, We Know

We Have Two Lives; The Soul Of Man Is Like The Rolling World, One Half In Day, The Other Dipt In Night; The One Has Music And The Flying Cloud, The Other, Silence And The Wakeful Stars.

A Man Gazing At The Stars Is Proverbially At The Mercy Of The Puddles In The Road.

In Life There Is Nothing More Unexpected And Surprising Than The Arrivals And Departures Of Pleasure. If We Find It In One Place Today, It Is Vain To Seek It There Tomorrow. You Can Not Lay A Trap For It.

If You Wish To Preserve Your Secret, Wrap It Up In Frankness.

Style, After All, Rather Than Thought, Is The Immortal Thing In Literature.