Reality Is A Sliding Door.

Love Of Beauty Is Taste. The Creation Of Beauty Is Art.

We Owe To Man Higher Succors Than Food And Fire. We Owe To Man, Man.

Pride Can Go Without Domestics, Without Fine Clothes, Can Live In A House With Two Rooms, Can Eat Potato, Purslain, Beans, Lyed Corn, Can Work On The Soil, Can Travel Afoot, Can Talk With Poor Men, Or Sit Silent Well Contented With Fine Saloons. But Vanity Costs Money, Labor, Horses, Men, Women, Health And Peace, And Is Still Nothing At Last; A Long Way Leading Nowhere.--only One Drawback; Proud People Are Intolerably Selfish, And The Vain Are Gentle And Giving.

The Sanity Of Society Is A Balance Of A Thousand Insanity's.

A Man Should Have A Farm Or A Mechanical Craft For His Culture. We Must Have A Basis For Our Higher Accomplishments, Our Delicate Entertainments Of Poetry And Philosophy, In The Work Of Our Hands.