And We Forget Because We Must And

O Born In Days When Wits Were Fresh And Clear, And Life Ran Gaily As The Sparkling Thames; Before This Strange Disease Of Modern Life, With Its Sick Hurry, Its Divided Aims, Its Heads O'ertax'd, Its Palsied Hearts, Was Rife.

Be Neither Saint Nor Sophist-led, But Be A Man.

The Greek Word Euphuia, A Finely Tempered Nature, Gives Exactly The Notion Of Perfection As Culture Brings Us To Perceive It; A Harmonious Perfection, A Perfection In Which The Characters Of Beauty And Intelligence Are Both Present, Which Unites "the Two Noblest Of Things" - As Swift Most Happily Calls Them In His Battle Of The Books, "the Two Noblest Of Things, Sweetness And Light."

The Eternal Not Ourselves That Makes For Righteousness.

Consider These People, Then, Their Way Of Life, Their Habits, Their Manners, The Very Tones Of Their Voice; Look At Them Attentively; Observe The Literature They Read, The Things Which Give Them Pleasure, The Words Which Come Forth Out Of Their Mouths, The Thoughts Which Make The Furniture Of Their Minds; Would Any Amount Of Wealth Be Worth Having With The Condition That One Was To Become Just Like These People By Having It?