Oh, Happy He Who Still Hopes He

Superstition Is A Part Of The Very Being Of Humanity; And When We Fancy That We Are Banishing It Altogether, It Takes Refuge In The Strangest Nooks And Corners, And Then Suddenly Comes Forth Again, As Soon As It Believes Itself At All Safe.

Viewed From The Summit Of Reason, All Life Looks Like A Malignant Disease And The World Like A Madhouse.

There Are Three Classes Of Readers; Some Enjoy Without Judgment; Others Judge Without Enjoyment; And Some There Are Who Judge While They Enjoy, And Enjoy While They Judge. The Latter Class Reproduces The Work Of Art On Which It Is Engaged. Its Numbers Are Very Small.

Children, Like Dogs, Have So Sharp And Fine A Scent That They Detect And Hunt Out Everything--the Bad Before All The Rest. They Also Know Well Enough How This Or That Friend Stands With Their Parents; And As They Practice No Dissimulation Whatever, They Serve As Excellent Barometers By Which To Observe The Degree Of Favor Or Disfavor At Which We Stand With Their Parents.

One Errs As Long As One Strives.