The Flowers Of Life Are

Architecture Is Frozen Music. [ger., Die Backunst Ist Eine Erstarrte Musik.]

Superstition Is The Poetry Of Life. It Is Inherent In Man's Nature; And When We Think It Is Wholly Eradicated, It Takes Refuge In The Strangest Holes And Corners, Whence It Peeps Out All At Once, As Soon As It Can Do It With Safety.

We All Of Us Live Upon The Past, And Through The Past We Are Destroyed.

The Use Of A Thing Is Only A Part Of Its Significance. To Know Anything Thoroughly, To Have The Full Command Of It In All Its Appliances, We Must Study It On Its Own Account, Independently Of Any Special Application.

It Is A Misfortune To Pass At Once From Observation To Conclusion, And To Regard Both As Of Equal Value; But It Befalls Many A Student.