The heart has eyes which the brain knows nothing of.
So far from genius discarding law, rather is it the supreme joy of genius to re-enact the eternal and unwritten law in the chamber of its own intel-lect.
Character is the impulse reined down into steady continuance.
Purpose directs energy, and purpose makes energy.
Ideals we do not make. We discover, not invent, them.
Purposelessness is the fruitful mother of crime.