No Mud Can Soil Us But The

Many Make The Household But Only One The Home.

Death Is Delightful. Death Is Dawn, The Waking From A Weary Night Of Fevers Unto Truth And Light.

All Thoughts That Mold The Age Begin Deep Down Within The Primitive Soul.

The Material Of Thought Re-acts Upon The Thought Itself.

In General Those Who Nothing Have To Say Contrive To Spend The Longest Time In Doing It.