The Jest Loses Its Point When He

The Lamp Of Genius Burns Quicker Than The Lamp Of Life.

Satisfied If They Themselves Can Escape From The Hard Labour Of Thought, They Willingly Abandon To Others The Guardianship Of Their Thoughts.

Rarely Do We Arrive At The Summit Of Truth Without Running Into Extremes; We Have Frequently To Exhaust The Part Of Error, And Even Of Folly, Before We Work Our Way Up To The Noble Goal Of Tranquil Wisdom.

What Else Is Chance But The Rude Stone Which Receives Its Life From The Sculptor's Hand? Providence Gives Us Chance, And Man Must Mould It To His Own Designs.

A Childlike Mind In Its Simplicity Practises That Science Of Good To Which The Wise May Be Blind.