A man is a writer if all his words are strung in definite sentence sounds.
There is a great amount of poetry in unconscious fastidiousness.
The self does not realize itself most fully when self-realization is its most constant aim.
When one is frank, one's very presence is a compliment.
We prove, we do not explain, our birth.
As for butterflies, I can hardly conceive of one's attending upon you; but to question the congruence of the complement is vain, if it exists.