With Stupidity And Sound Digestion, Man May

No Person Was Every Rightly Understood Until They Had Been First Regarded With A Certain Feeling, Not Of Tolerance, But Of Sympathy.

We Have Our Little Theory On All Human And Divine Things. Poetry, The Workings Of Genius Itself, Which, In All Times, With One Or Another Meaning, Has Been Called Inspiration, And Held To Be Mysterious And Inscrutable, Is No Longer Without Its Scientific Exposition. The Building Of The Lofty Rhyme Is Like Any Other Masonry Or Bricklaying: We Have Theories Of Its Rise, Height, Decline And Fall -- Which Latter, It Would Seem, Is Now Near, Among All People.

A Judicious Man Looks At Statistics, Not To "get Knowledge, But To Save Himself From Having Ignorance Foisted 'on Him".

Secrecy Is The Element Of All Goodness; Even Virtue, Even Beauty Is Mysterious.

If Time Is Precious, No Book That Will Not Improve By Repeated Readings Deserves To Be Read At All.