To Think Is Of Itself To Be

...mothers Are Often Fondest Of The Child Which Has Caused Them The Greatest Pain.

Music Is The Vapor Of Art. It Is To Poetry What Reverie Is To Thought, What Fluid Is To Solid, What The Ocean Of Clouds Is To The Ocean Of Waves.

Wisdom And Eloquence Are Not Always United.

If The Infinite Had No Me, Then Me Would Be Its Limit. It Would Not Be The Infinite, Therefore It Would Not Be.

Success Is A Very Hideous Thing. Its False Resemblance To Merit Deceives Men.