Anger Is A Wind Which Blows Out

Memory Is The Miser Of The Mind; Forgetfulness The Spendthrift.

The Triumph Of Justice Is The Only Peace.

The Credulity Of The Church Is Decreasing, And The Most Marvelous Miracles Are Not Either 'explained,' Or Allowed To Take Refuge Behind The Mistakes Of The Translators, Or Hide In The Drapery Of Allegory.

Custom Meets Us At The Cradle And Leaves Us Only At The Tomb.

I Love To Think Of The Whole Universe Together As One Eternal Fact. I Love To Think That Everything Is Alive; That Crystallization Is Itself A Step Toward Joy. I Love To Think That When A Bud Bursts Into Blossom: It Feels A Thrill. I Love To Have The Universe Full Of Feeling And Full Of Joy, And Not Full Of Simple Dead, Inert Matter, Managed By An Old Bachelor For All Eternity.