The Sky Is The Ultimate Art Gallery

The Hard Soil And Four Months Of Snow Make The Inhabitants Of The Northern Temperate Zone Wiser And Abler Than His Fellow Who Enjoys The Fixed Smile Of The Tropics.

Who Looks Upon A River In A Meditative Hour And Is Not Reminded Of The Flux Of All Things?

Every Man Is An Infinitely Repelling Orb, And Holds His Individual Being On That Condition.

Our Life Seems Not Present, So Much As Prospective; Not For The Affairs On Which It Is Wasted, But As A Hint Of This Vast- Flowingvigor.

Our Relations To Each Other Are Oblique And Casual.