Not Always Can Flowers, Pearls, Poetry, Protestations,

As The Farmer Casts Into The Ground The Finest Ears Of His Grain, The Time Will Come When We Too Shall Hold Nothing Back, But Shall Eagerly Convert More Than We Now Possess Into Means And Powers, When We Shall Be Willing To Sow The Sun And The Moon For Seeds.

There Is No Architect Can Build As The Muse Can; She Is Skilful To Select Materials For Her Plan.

All History Is A Record Of The Power Of Minorities, And Of Minorities Of One.

I See The Spectacle Of Morning From The Hilltop Over Against My House, From Daybreak To Sunrise, With Emotions Which An Angel Might Share. The Long Slender Bars Of Cloud Float Like Fishes In The Sea Of Crimson Light. From The Earth, As A Shore, I Look Out Into That Silent Sea. I Seem To Partake Its Rapid Transformations; The Active Enchantment Reaches My Dust, And I Dilate And Conspire With The Morning Wind.

Society Is A Masked Ball, Where Every One Hides His Real Character, And Reveals It By Hiding.