This Lake Exceeds Anything I Ever Beheld

A Single Word Even May Be A Spark Of Inextinguishable Thought

Constancy Has Nothing Virtuous In Itself, Independently Of The Pleasure It Confers, And Partakes Of The Temporizing Spirit Of Vice In Proportion As It Endures Tamely Moral Defects Of Magnitude In The Object Of Its Indiscreet Choice.

There Is No Real Wealth But The Labour Of Man.

There Is No Disease, Bodily Or Mental, Which Adoption Of Vegetable Diet, And Pure Water Has Not Infallibly Mitigated, Wherever The Experiment Has Been Fairly Tried.

O World! O Life! O Time! On Whose Last Steps I Climb