Character Is Always Known. Thefts Never Enrich;

It Is Easy To See That What Is Best Written Or Done By Genius In The World, Was No Man's Work But Came By Wide Social Labor, Whena Thousand Wrought Like One, Sharing The Same Impulse.

Each Of Us Sees In Others What We Carry In Our Own Hearts.

There Is A Mortifying Experience In Particular, Which Does Not Fail To Wreak Itself Also In The General History; I Mean "the Foolish Face Of Praise," The Forced Smile Which We Put On In Company Where We Do Not Feel At Ease, In Answer To Conversation Which Does Not Interest Us. The Muscles, Not Spontaneously Moved But Moved, By A Low Usurping Wilfulness, Grow Tight About The Outline Of The Face, With The Most Disagreeable Sensation.

A Man Is A Beggar Who Only Lives To The Useful, And, However He May Serve As A Pin Or Rivet In The Social Machine, Cannot Be Saidto Have Arrived At Self-possession.

To Be A Man Is To Be A Nonconformist.