No Man Who Is Correctly Informed As

Forget All Feuds, And Shed One English Tear O'er English Dust. A Broken Heart Lies Here.

Power, Safely Defied, Touches Its Downfall.

The Study Of The Properties Of Numbers, Plato Tells Us, Habituates The Mind To The Contemplation Of Pure Truth, And Raises Us Above The Material Universe. He Would Have His Disciples Apply Themselves To This Study, Not That They May Be Able To Buy Or Sell, Not That They May Qualify Themselves To Be Shopkeepers Or Travelling Merchants, But That They May Learn To Withdraw Their Minds From The Ever-shifting Spectacle Of This Visible And Tangible World, And To Fix Them On The Immutable Essences Of Things.

The Desire Of Posthumous Fame And The Dread Of Posthumous Reproach And Execration Are Feelings From The Influence Of Which Scarcely Any Man Is Perfectly Free, And Which In Many Men Are Powerful And Constant Motives Of Action.

Cut Off My Head, And Singular I Am, Cut Off My Tail, And Plural I Appear; Although My Middle's Left, There's Nothing There! What Is My Head Cut Off? A Sounding Sea; What Is My Tail Cut Off? A Rushing River; And In Their Mingling Depths I Fearless Play, Parent Of Sweetest Sounds, Yet Mute Forever.