I Am The Spirit That Denies.

The Unnatural, That Too Is Natural.

In Politics People Throw Themselves, As On A Sickbed, From One Side To The Other In The Belief They Will Lie More Comfortably.

One Needs Only To Get Old To Become Milder; I Don't See Anyone Make A Mistake I Hadn't Also Made.

Our Destiny Often Looks Like A Fruit-tree In Winter. Who Would Think From Its Pitiable Aspect That Those Rigid Boughs, Those Rough Twigs Could Next Spring Again Be Green, Bloom, And Even Bear Fruit? Yet We Hope It, We Know It.

We Can Most Safely Achieve Truly Universal Tolerance When We Respect That Which Is Characteristic In The Individual And In Nations, Clinging, Though, To The Conviction That The Truly Meritorious Is Unique By Belonging To All Of Mankind.