A Character Is A Completely Fashioned Will.

Not Only England, But Every Englishman Is An Island.

A Certain Degree Of Solitude Seems Necessary To The Full Growth And Spread Of The Highest Mind; And Therefore Must A Very Extensive Intercourse With Men Stifle Many A Holy Germ, And Scare Away The Gods, Who Shun The Restless Tumult Of Noisy Companies And The Discussion Of Petty Interests.

Man Has His Being In Truth--if He Sacrifices Truth He Sacrifices Himself. Whoever Betrays Truth Betrays Himself. It Is Not A Question Of Lying--but Of Acting Against One's Conviction.

Friendship, Love, And Piety Ought To Be Handled With A Sort Of Mysterious Secrecy; They Ought To Be Spoken Of Only In The Rare Moments Of Perfect Confidence, To Be Mutually Understood In Silence. Many Things Are Too Delicate To Be Thought; Many More, To Be Spoken.

Blood Will Stream Over Europe Until The Nations Become Aware Of The Frightful Madness Which Drives Them In Circles. And Then, Struck By Celestial Music And Made Gentle, They Approach Their Former Altars All Together, Hear About The Works Of Peace, And Hold A Great Celebration Of Peace With Fervent Tears Before The Smoking Altars.