I Like People Who Like Plato.

Meek Young Men Grow Up In Colleges And Believe It Is Their Duty To Accept The Views Which Books Have Given, And Grow Up Slaves.

Two Touch The String, The Harp Is Dumb.

There Are Only Ten Minutes In The Life Of A Pear When It Is Perfect To Eat.

The Etymologist Finds The Deadest Word To Have Been Once A Brilliant Picture. Language Is Fossil Poetry. As The Limestone Of The Continent Consists Of Infinite Masses Of The Shells Of Animalcules, So Language Is Made Up Of Images Or Tropes, Which Now, In Their Secondary Use, Have Long Ceased To Remind Us Of Their Poetic Origin.

Evil Is Merely Privative, Not Absolute: It Is Like Cold, Which Is The Privation Of Beat.