Neatness Begets Order; But From Order To

Receive No Satisfaction For Premeditated Impertinence - Forget It, Forgive It - But Keep Him Inexorably At A Distance Who Of∣fered It.

He Who Comes From The Kitchen, Smells Of Its Smoke; And He Who Adheres To A Sect, Has Something Of Its Cant; The College Air Pursues The Student; And Dry Inhumanity Him Who Herds With Literary Pedants.

Do Not Believe That A Book Is Good, If In Reading It Thou Dost Not Become More Contented With Thy Existence, If It Does Not Rouse Up In Thee Most Generous Feelings.

He Who, Silent, Loves To Be With Us - He Who Loves Us In Our Silence - Has Touched One Of The Keys That Ravish Hearts.

Every Man Has His Devilish Minutes.