Coal Is A Portable Climate.

We Are The Prisoners Of Ideas. They Catch Us Up For Moments Into Their Heaven, And So Fully Engage Us, That We Take No Thought Forthe Morrow, Gaze Like Children, Without An Effort To Make Them Our Own.

But Every Jet Of Chaos Which Threatens To Exterminate Us Is Convertible By Intellect Into Wholesome Force. Fate Is Unpenetrated Causes.

The Hero Is He Who Is Immovably Centered.

The Street Is Full Of Humiliations To The Proud.

All The Great Speakers Were Bad Speakers At First.