Eternity Looks Grander And Kinder If Time

The Mystery Of A Person, Indeed, Is Ever Divine To Him That Has A Sense For The Godlike.

The Situation That Has Not Its Duty, Its Ideal, Was Never Yet Occupied By Man. Yes, Here, In This Poor, Miserable, Hampered, Despicable Actual, Wherein Thou Even Now Standest, Here Or Nowhere Is Thy Ideal; Work It Out Therefrom, And, Working, Believe, Live, Be Free. Fool! The Ideal Is In Thyself.

In Every Man's Writings, The Character Of The Writer Must Lie Recorded.

Alas! We Know That Ideals Can Never Be Completely Embodied In Practice. Ideals Must Ever Lie A Great Way Off--and We Will Thankfully Content Ourselves With Any Not Intolerable Approximation Thereto! Let No Man, As Schiller Says, Too Querulously "measure By A Scale Of Perfection The Meager Product Of Reality" In This Poor World Of Ours.

Woe To Him That Claims Obedience When It Is Not Due; Woe To Him That Refuses It When It Is.