If You Have Science And Art, You

Men In A State Of Nature, Uncivilized Nations, Children, Have A Great Fondness For Colors In Their Utmost Brightness, And Especially For Yellow-red.

The Confidant Of My Vices Is My Master, Though He Were My Valet.

By Nature We Have No Defect That Could Not Become A Strength, No Strength That Could Not Become A Defect.

Distance... Is Like Futurity. A Dim Vastness Is Spread Before Our Souls; The Perceptions Of Our Mind Are As Obscure As Those Of Our Vision... But Alas! When We Have Attained Our Object, When The Distant 'there' Becomes The Present 'here,' All Is Changed; We Are As Poor And Circumscribed As Ever, And Our Souls Still Languish For Unattainable Happiness.

Hatred Is A Heavy Burden. It Sinks The Heart Deep In The Breast, And Lies Like A Tombstone On All Joys.