He That Has Done Nothing Has Known

Nature, After All, Is Still The Grand Agent In Making Poets.

Of Our Thinking It Is But The Upper Surface That We Shape Into Articulate Thought; Underneath The Region Of Argument And Conscious Discourse Lies The Region Of Meditation.

It Is Now Almost My Sole Rule Of Life To Clear Myself Of Cants And Formulas, As Of Poisonous Nessus Shirts.

The Wise Man Is But A Clever Infant, Spelling Letters From A Hieroglyphical Prophetic Book, The Lexicon Of Which Lies In Eternity.

Violence Does Even Justice Unjustly.