Most Of Us Retain Enough Of The

Every Now And Then A Man's Mind Is Stretched By A New Idea Or Sensation, And Never Shrinks Back To Its Former Dimensions.

I Think It Not Improbable That Man, Like The Grub That Prepares A Chamber For The Winged Thing It Never Has Seen But Is To Be - That Man May Have Cosmic Destinies That He Does Not Understand.

To Be Master Of Any Branch Of Knowledge, You Must Master Those Which Lie Next To It, And Thus To Know Anything You Must Know All.

The Wind Blows Out, The Bubble Dies; The Spring Entomb'd In Autumn Lies; The Dew Dries Up; The Star Is Shot; The Flight Is Past, And Man Forgot.

To Be Forgotten Is To Sleep In Peace With The Undisturbed Myriads, No Longer Subject To The Chills And Heats, The Blasts, The Sleet, The Dust, Which Assail In Endless Succession That Shadow Of A Man Which We Call His Reputation.