The Sublime Is Contained In

In The Morn Of Life We Are Alert, We Are Heated In Its Noon, And Only In Its Decline Do We Repose.

I Strove With None; For None Was Worth My Strife.

Solitude Is The Audience-chamber Of God.

Absurdities Are Great Or Small In Proportion To Custom Or Insuetude.

Belief In A Future Life Is The Appetite Of Reason.