Character Is The Basis Of Happiness And

To Understand Oneself Is The Classic Form Of Consolation; To Elude Oneself Is The Romantic.

Thought Is Essentially Practical In The Sense That But For Thought No Motion Would Be An Action, No Change A Progress.

In The Contemplation Of Beauty We Are Raised Above Ourselves, The Passions Are Silenced And We Are Happy In The Recognition Of A Good That We Do Not Seek To Possess.

The Irrational In The Human Has Something About It Altogether Repulsive And Terrible, As We See In The Maniac, The Miser, The Drunkard Or The Ape.

Love Make Us Poets, And The Approach Of Death Should Make Us Philosophers.