Nature Is The Armory Of Genius. Cities

Divination Seems Heightened And Raised To Its Highest Power In Woman.

The Fable Runs That The Gods Mix Our Pains And Pleasure In One Cup, And Thus Mingle For Us The Adulterate Immortality Which We Alone Are Permitted Here To Enjoy. Voluptuous Raptures, Could We Prolong These At Pleasure, Would Dissipate And Dissolve Us. A Sip Is The Most That Mortals Are Permitted From Any Goblet Of Delight.

Inspiration Must Find Answering Inspiration.

Nature Is Thought Immersed In Matter. . .

Nature Is The Armory Of Genius. Cities Serve It Poorly, Books And Colleges At Second Hand; The Eye Craves The Spectacle Of The Horizon; Of Mountain, Ocean, River And Plain, The Clouds And Stars; Actual Contact With The Elements, Sympathy With The Seasons As They Rise And Roll.