Grief Hallows Hearts, Even While It Ages

Mind And Night Will Meet, Though In Silence, Like Forbidden Lovers.

Worthy Books Are Not Companions – They Are Solitudes: We Lose Ourselves In Them And All Our Cares.

Simplicity Is Natures First Step, And The Last Of Art.

Respect Is What We Owe; Love, What We Give.

Burn To Be Great, Pay Not Thy Praise To Lofty Things Alone. The Plains Are Everlasting As The Hills, The Bard Cannot Have Two Pursuits; Aught Else Comes On The Mind With The Like Shock As Though Two Worlds Had Gone To War, And Met In Air.