A true teacher defends his students against his own personal influences.

Nature is the armory of genius. Cities serve it poorly, books and colleges at second hand; the eye craves the spectacle of the horizon; of mountain, ocean, river and plain, the clouds and stars; actual contact with the elements, sympathy with the seasons as they rise and roll.

All unrest is but the struggle of the soul to reassure herself of her inborn immortality.

Yet the deepest truths are best read between the lines, and, for the most part, refuse to be written.

The true teacher defends his pupils against his own personal influence. He inspires self-trust. He guides their eyes from himself to the spirit that quickens him. He will have no disciples.

Debate is masculine, conversation is feminine.

Labor humanizes, exalts.