The Ancients Called Beauty The Flowering Of

Patience And Fortitude Conquer All Things.

Manners Are The Happy Ways Of Doing Things; Each One A Stroke Of Genius Or Of Love, Now Repeated And Hardened Into Usage, They Form At Last A Rich Varnish, With Which The Routine Of Life Is Washed, And Its Details Adorned. If They Are Superficial, So Are The Dew-drops Which Give Such A Depth To The Morning Meadows.

If Speculation Tends Thus To A Terrific Unity, In Which All Things Are Absorbed, Action Tends Directly Back To Diversity. The First Is The Course Or Gravitation Of Mind; The Second Is The Power Of Nature. Nature Is Manifold. The Unity Absorbs, And Melts Or Reduces. Nature Opens And Creates. These Two Principles Reappear And Interpenetrate All Things, All Thought; The One, The Many.

We Walk Alone In The World. Friends, Such As We Desire, Are Dreams And Fables.

Freedom Is The Essence Of This Faith. It Has For Its Object Simply To Make Men Good And Wise. Its Institutions Then Should Be As Flexible As The Wants Of Men. That Form Out Of Which The Life And Suitableness Have Departed Should Be As Worthless In Its Eyes As The Dead Leaves That Are Falling Around Us.