You Can Put Up With

We Cannot Too Soon Convince Ourselves How Easily We May Be Dispensed With In The World. What Important Personages We Imagine Ourselves To Be! We Think That We Alone Are The Life Of The Circle In Which We Move; In Our Absence, We Fancy That Life, Existence, Breath Will Come To A General Pause, And, Alas, The Gap Which We Leave Is Scarcely Perceptible, So Quickly Is It Filled Again; Nay, It Is Often The Place, If Not Of Something Better, At Least For Something More Agreeable.

A Man May Twist As He Pleases, And Do What He Pleases, But He Inevitably Comes Back To The Track To Which Nature Has Destined Him.

It Is A Very Hard And Troublesome Thing To Dispose Of Whole, Half, And Quarter-mistakes; To Sift Them And Assign The Portion Of Truth To Its Proper Place.

Mannerism Always Wants To Be Finished And Doesn't Enjoy The Process. Genuine, Truly Great Talent, However, Finds Its Greatest Satisfaction In The Production.

Distance... Is Like Futurity. A Dim Vastness Is Spread Before Our Souls; The Perceptions Of Our Mind Are As Obscure As Those Of Our Vision... But Alas! When We Have Attained Our Object, When The Distant 'there' Becomes The Present 'here,' All Is Changed; We Are As Poor And Circumscribed As Ever, And Our Souls Still Languish For Unattainable Happiness.