Master And Doctor Are My Titles; For

Distance... Is Like Futurity. A Dim Vastness Is Spread Before Our Souls; The Perceptions Of Our Mind Are As Obscure As Those Of Our Vision... But Alas! When We Have Attained Our Object, When The Distant 'there' Becomes The Present 'here,' All Is Changed; We Are As Poor And Circumscribed As Ever, And Our Souls Still Languish For Unattainable Happiness.

The Miller Believes That All The Wheat Grows So That His Mill Keeps Running.

The Eternal Feminine Doth Draw Us Upward. [ger., Das Ewig-weibliche Zieht Uns Hinan.]

Let Us Live, While We Are Alive!

We Usually Lose Today, Because There Has Been A Yesterday, And Tomorrow Is Coming.