Whatever You Truly Conceive Of In The

Many A Man Who Might Walk Over Burning Ploughshares Into Heaven Stumbles From The Path Because There Is Gravel In His Shoes.

Truth Is Poetry; It Is The Grandest Poetry.

Objects Close To The Eye Shut Out Much Larger Objects On The Horizon; And Splendors Born Only Of The Earth Eclipse The Stars. So A Man Sometimes Covers Up The Entire Disk Of Eternity With A Dollar, And Quenches Transcendent Glories With A Little Shining Dust.

If One's Conscience Be Dead As A Stone, It Is As Heavy Too.

Genius Is The Accumulated Wealth Of Our Humanity--its Most Intense Development Concentrated At One Point, And Then With Clearer Expression And With Mysterious Power Shot Back To Us Across The Galvanic Lines Of Thought And Feeling.