My Genius Is In My Nostrils.

Sometimes In Conversation The Sound Of Our Own Voice Distracts Us And Misleads Us Into Making Assertions That In No Way Express Our True Opinions.

We No Longer Love Our Knowledge Enough Once We Have Passed It On.

The Patient. The Pine Tree Seems To Listen, The Fir Tree To Wait: And Both Without Impatience: - They Give No Thought To The Little People Beneath Them Devoured By Their Impatience And Their Curiosity.

The Heart And Hand Of Those Who Always Mete Out Become Callous From Always Meting Out.

I Love Him Who Liveth In Order To Know, And Seeketh To Know In Order That The Superman May Hereafter Live. Thus Seeketh He His Own Down-going.