Night is certainly more novel and less profane than day.

As if there were safety in stupidity alone

As they say in geology, time never fails, there is always enough of it, so I may say, criticism never fails.

If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away. It is not important that he should mature as soon as an apple-tree or oak. Shall he turn his spring into summer? If the condition of things which we were made for is not yet, what were any reality which we can substitute? We will not be shipwrecked on a vain reality.

The book exists for us perchance which will explain our miracles and and reveal new ones. The at present unutterable things we may find somewhere uttered. These same questions that disturb and puzzle and confound us have in their turn occurred to all the wise men; not one has been omitted; and each has answered them, according to his ability, by his words and his life.

The silence sings. It is musical. I remember a night when it was audible. I heard the unspeakable.

Thus men will lie on their backs, talking about the fall of man, and never make an effort to get up.