One Idea Lights A Thousand Candles.

With Most Men, Scarce A Link Of Memory Holds Yesterday And To-day Together.

A Man Is Reputed To Have Thought And Eloquence; He Cannot, For All That, Say A Word To His Cousin Or His Uncle. They Accuse His Silence With As Much Reason As They Would Blame The Insignificance Of A Dial In The Shade. In The Sun It Will Mark The Hour. Among Those Who Enjoy His Thought, He Will Regain His Tongue.

It Is Long Ere We Discover How Rich We Are. Our History, We Are Sure, Is Quite Tame: We Have Nothing To Write, Nothing To Infer. But Our Wiser Years Still Run Back To The Despised Recollections Of Childhood. . . .

If In The Least Particular, One Could Derange The Order Of Nature, Who Would Accept The Gift Of Life?

You Cannot See The Mountain Near.