And Silence, Like A Poultice, Comes To

Life Is A Fatal Complaint, And An Eminently Contagious One.

The Root Of Joy, As Of Duty, Is To Put All One's Powers Towards Some Great End.

Many Ideas Grow Better When Transplanted Into Another Mind Than In The One Where They Sprung Up.

Every Now And Then A Man's Mind Is Stretched By A New Idea Or Sensation, And Never Shrinks Back To Its Former Dimensions.

Reason Means Truth And Those Who Are Not Governed By It Take The Chance That Someday The Sunken Fact Will Rip The Bottom Out Of Their Boat.