Art still has truth. Take refuge there.

Resolve to be thyself: and know that he who finds himself, loses his misery.

But often, in the world’s most crowded streets, But often, in the din of strife, There rises an unspeakable desire After the knowledge of our buried life; A thirst to spend our fire and restless force In tracking out our true, original course; A longing to inquire Into the mystery of this heart which beats So wild, so deep in us—to know Whence our lives come and where they go.

Culture looks beyond machinery, culture hates hatred; culture has one great passion, the passion for sweetness and light.

The nice sense of measure is certainly not one of Nature's gifts to her English children ... we have all of us yielded to infatuation at some moment of our lives.

All knowledge is interesting to a wise man, and the knowledge of nature is interesting to all men.

And each day brings it's pretty dust, Our soon-choked souls to fll And we forget because we must, And not because we will.