What I Have Done Cannot Be Taken

At A Distance This Fine Oak Seems To Be Of Ordinary Size. But If I Place Myself Under Its Branches, The Impression Changes Completely: I See It As Big, And Even Terrifying In Its Bigness.

You Increase Your Self-respect When You Feel You've Done Everything You Ought To Have Done, And If There Is Nothing Else To Enjoy, There Remains That Chief Of Pleasures, The Feeling Of Being Pleased With Oneself. A Man Gets An Immense Amount Of Satisfaction From The Knowledge Of Having Done Good Work And Of Having Made The Best Use Of His Day, And When I Am In This State I Find That I Thoroughly Enjoy My Rest And Even The Mildest Forms Of Recreation.

As For The Ridiculous Fear Of Making Things Below One's Potential Abilities... No, There Is The Root Of The Evil. There Is The Hiding Place Of Stupidity I Must Attack: Vain Mortal, You Are Limited By Nothing.

The More An Object Is Polished Or Brilliant, The Less You See Its Own Color And The More It Becomes A Mirror Reflecting The Color Of Its Surroundings.

I Am Carrying Out My Plan, So Long Formulated, Of Keeping A Journal. What I Most Keenly Wish Is Not To Forget That I Am Writing For Myself Alone. Thus I Shall Always Tell The Truth, I Hope, And Thus I Shall Improve Myself. These Pages Will Reproach Me For My Changes Of Mind.