You Cannot Give Anything To

Books Take Their Place According To Their Specific Gravity As Surely As Potatoes In A Tub.

Blessed Are Those Who Have No Talent!

Fear, Craft And Avarice Cannot Rear A State.

We Are Like Travellers Using The Cinders Of A Volcano To Roast Their Eggs. Whilst We See That It Always Stands Ready To Clothe What We Would Say, We Cannot Avoid The Question Whether The Characters Are Not Significant Of Themselves.

Creative Force, Like A Musical Composer, Goes On Unweariedly Repeating A Simple Air Or Theme, Now High, Now Low, In Solo, In Chorus, Ten Thousand Times Reverberated, Till It Fills Earth And Heaven With The Chant.