Manners Require Time, And Nothing

Behind Us, As We Go, All Things Assume Pleasing Forms, As Clouds Do Far Off. Not Only Things Familiar And Stale, But Even The Tragic And Terrible, Are Comely, As They Take Their Place In The Pictures Of Memory.

We Are The Prisoners Of Ideas.

Why Should We Fear To Be Crushed By Savage Elements, We Who Are Made Up Of The Same Elements?

The World Is Nothing, The Man Is All; In Yourself Is The Law Of All Nature, And You Know Not Yet How A Globule Of Sap Ascends; In Yourself Slumbers The Whole Of Reason; It Is For You To Know All, It Is For You To Dare All.

To Have Played And Laughed With Enthusiasm, And Sung With Exultation - This To To Have Succeeded.