When The World Is Storm-driven And Bad

A Word Is No Light Matter. Words Have With Truth Been Called Fossil Poetry, Each, That Is, A Symbol Of A Creative Thought.

There Is A Field Where All Wonderful Perfections Of Microscope And Telescope Fail, All Exquisite Niceties Of Weights And Measures, As Well As That Which Is Behind Them, The Keen And Driving Power Of The Mind. No Facts However Indubitably Detected, No Effort Of Reason However Magnificently Maintained, Can Prove That Bach's Music Is Beautiful.

When I Read Educational Articles It Often Seems To Me That This Important Side Of The Matter, The Purely Personal Side, Is Not Emphasized Enough; The Fact That It Is So Much More Agreeable And Interesting To Be An Educated Person Than Not. The Sheer Pleasure Of Being Educated Does Not Seem To Be Stressed.

To Be Able To Be Caught Up Into The World Of Thought-that Is Educated.

The Greater The Suffering Depicted, The More Terrible The Events, The More Intense Our Pleasure.