Bodies Are Real Entities. Surfaces And Lines

O Logic: Born Gatekeeper To The Temple Of Science, Victim Of Capricious Destiny: Doomed Hitherto To Be The Drudge Of Pedants: Come To The Aid Of Thy Master, Legislation

In The Mind Of All, Fiction, In The Logical Sense, Has Been The Coin Of Necessity;—in That Of Poets Of Amusement—in That Of The Priest And The Lawyer Of Mischievous Immorality In The Shape Of Mischievous Ambition,—and Too Often Both Priest And Lawyer Have Framed Or Made In Part This Instrument.

Publicity Is The Very Soul Of Justice. It Is The Keenest Spur To Exertion, And The Surest Of All Guards Against Improbity.

Prose Is When All The Lines Except The Last Go On To The End. Poetry Is When Some Of Them Fall Short Of It.

We May Scatter The Seeds Of Courtesy And Kindness About Us At Little Expense. Some Of Them Will Fall On Good Ground, And Grow Up Into Benevolence In The Minds Of Others, And All Of Them Will Bear Fruit Of Happiness In The Bosom Whence They Spring.