Mankind Is Not A Circle

Intelligence Is The Wife, Imagination Is The Mistress, Memory Is The Servant.

What Was More Needed By This Old Man Who Divided The Leisure Hours Of His Life, Where He Had So Little Leisure, Between Gardening In The Daytime, And Contemplation At Night? Was Not This Narrow Enclosure, With The Sky For A Background, Enough To Enable Him To Adore God In His Most Beautiful As Well As In His Most Sublime Works? Indeed, Is Not That All, And What More Can Be Desired? A Little Garden To Walk, And Immensity To Reflect Upon. At His Feet Something To Cultivate And Gather; Above His Head Something To Study And Meditate Upon: A Few Flowers On The Earth, And All The Stars In The Sky.

To Learn To Read Is To Light A Fire.

Solitude Either Develops The Mental Power, Or Renders Men Dull And Vicious.

In My Old Age There Is A Coming Into Flower. My Body Wanes; My Mind Waxes.