Liberty Is The Soul's Right To Breathe.

Every Green Thing Loves To Die In Bright Colors. The Vegetable Cohorts March Glowing Out Of The Year In Flaming Dresses, As If To Leave This Earth Were A Triumph And Not A Sadness. It Is Never Nature That Is Sad, But Only We, That Dare Not Look Back On The Past, And That Have Not Its Prophecy Of The Future In Our Bosoms.

Let Every Man Come To God In His Own Way.

Speak Of The Appetite For Drink; Or Of A Bon-vivant's Relish For Dinner! What Are These Mere Animal Throes And Ragings Compared With Those Fantasies Of Taste, Of Those Yearning Of The Imagination, Of Those Insatiable Appetites Of Intellect, Which Bewilder A Student In A Great Bookseller's Temptation-hall.

It Is Not Work That Kills Men; It Is Worry. Worry Is Rust Upon The Blade.

There Are Materials Enough In Every Man's Mind To Make A Hell There.