We Touch Heaven When We Lay Our

The Art Of Writing Books Is Not Yet Invented. But It Is At The Point Of Being Invented. Fragments Of This Nature Are Literary Seeds. There May Be Many An Infertile Grain Among Them: Nevertheless, If Only Some Come Up!

We Are More Closely Connected To The Invisible Than To The Visible.

Fate And Temperament Are The Names Of A Concept.

We Touch Heaven When We Lay Our Hand On A Human Body!

A Certain Degree Of Solitude Seems Necessary To The Full Growth And Spread Of The Highest Mind; And Therefore Must A Very Extensive Intercourse With Men Stifle Many A Holy Germ, And Scare Away The Gods, Who Shun The Restless Tumult Of Noisy Companies And The Discussion Of Petty Interests.