Where Is The Man Who

You Acquire A Language Most Readily In The Country Where It Is Spoken; You Study Mineralogy Best Among Miners; And So With Everything Else.

Distance... Is Like Futurity. A Dim Vastness Is Spread Before Our Souls; The Perceptions Of Our Mind Are As Obscure As Those Of Our Vision... But Alas! When We Have Attained Our Object, When The Distant 'there' Becomes The Present 'here,' All Is Changed; We Are As Poor And Circumscribed As Ever, And Our Souls Still Languish For Unattainable Happiness.

It Is Not Given To Us To Grasp The Truth, Which Is Identical With The Divine, Directly. We Perceive It Only In Reflection, In Example And Symbol, In Singular And Related Appearances. It Meets Us As A Kind Of Life Which Is Incomprehensible To Us, And Yet We Cannot Free Ourselves From The Desire To Comprehend It.

Would You Require A Wretched Being, Whose Life Is Slowly Wasting Under A Lingering Disease, To Despatch Himself At Once By The Stroke Of A Dagger? Does Not The Very Disorder Which Consumes His Strength Deprive Him Of The Courage To Effect His Deliverance?

There Are People Who Make No Mistakes Because They Never Wish To Do Anything Worth Doing.