Every Man Is Wanted, And No Man

Beware Of Too Much Good Staying In Your Hand. It Will Fast Corrupt And Worm Worms. Pay It Away Quickly In Some Sort.

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

We Wake From One Dream Into Another Dream.

It Is Long Ere We Discover How Rich We Are. Our History, We Are Sure, Is Quite Tame: We Have Nothing To Write, Nothing To Infer. But Our Wiser Years Still Run Back To The Despised Recollections Of Childhood. . . .

Every Genuine Work Of Art Has As Much Reason For Being As The Earth And The Sun.