Music Is The Poor Man's Parnassus.

We Are A Puny And Fickle Folk. Avarice, Hesitation, And Following Are Our Diseases.

Old & New Put Their Stamp To Everything In Nature. The Snowflake That Is Now Falling Is Marked By Both. The Present Moment Gives The Motion & The Color Of The Flake: Antiquity, Its Form & Properties. All Things Wear A Luster Which Is The Gift Of The Present & A Tarnish Of Time.

Each Man Has An Aptitude Born With Him. Do Your Work.

The Craft Of The Merchant Is This Bringing A Thing Where It Abounds To Where It Is Costly.

Its The Not The Destination, It's The Journey.