The Sea Is A Collector, Quick To

We Are What We Were At Birth, And Each Trait Has Remained In Conformity With Earth's And With Heaven's Logic: Be The Devil's Tool, Resort To Black Magic, None Can Diverge From The Ends Which Heaven Foreordained.

Any Writer Overwhelmingly Honest About Pleasing Himself Is Almost Sure To Please Others.

There Is A Great Amount Of Poetry In Unconscious Fastidiousness.

The Deepest Feeling Always Shows Itself In Silence.

One Must Be As Clear As One's Natural Reticence Allows One To Be.