Genius Is Saying What Is

Alas For America As I Must So Often Say, The Ungirt, The Diffuse, The Profuse, Procumbent, One Wide Ground Juniper, Out Of Which No Cedar, No Oak Will Rear Up A Mast To The Clouds! It All Runs To Leaves, To Suckers, To Tendrils, To Miscellany. The Air Is Loaded With Poppy, With Imbecility, With Dispersion, & Sloth.

Beauty Is The Virtue Of The Body As Virtue Is The Beauty Of The Soul

We Owe To Man Higher Succors Than Food And Fire. We Owe To Man, Man.

A Man Must Know How To Estimate A Sour Face. The Sour Face Of The Multitude, Like Thier Sweet Faces, Have No Deep Cause, But Are Put On And Off As The Wind Blows And The Newspaper Directs.

It Is Dainty To Be Sick If You Have Leisure And Convenience For It.