Wit Makes Its Own Welcome,

You Have A Place To Live In This World Which No Other Man Can Occupy; Hence No Competitors.

Everything In Our World, Even A Drop Of Dew, Is A Microcosm Of The Universe.

Let Him Be Great, And Love Shall Follow Him.

In The Right Hands, Literature Is Not Resorted To As A Consolation, And By The Broken And Decayed, But As A Decalogue.

There Is One Mind Common To All Individual Men. Every Man Is An Inlet To The Same And To All Of The Same. He That Is Once Admitted To The Right Of Reason Is Made A Freeman Of The Whole Estate. What Plato Has Thought, He May Think; What A Saint Has Felt, He May Feel; What At Any Time Has Befallen Any Man, He Can Understand. Who Hath Access To This Universal Mind Is A Party To All That Is Or Can Be Done, For This Is The Only And Sovereign Agent