Do Your Thing, And I Shall Know

Discontent Is Want Of Self-reliance; It Is Infirmity Of Will.

Nothing Great Was Ever Achieved Without Enthusiasm.

I Covet Truth; Beauty Is Unripe Childhood's Cheat; I Leave It Behind With The Games Of Youth.

We Fetch Fire And Water, Run About All Day Among The Shops And Markets, And Get Our Clothes And Shoes Made And Mended, And Are Thevictims Of These Details, And Once In A Fortnight We Arrive Perhaps At A Rational Moment.

The Lover Of Letters Loves Power Too.