My evening visitors, if they cannot see the clock should find the time in my face.

Conversation is a game of circles.

There are as many pillows of illusion as flakes in a snow-storm. We wake from one dream into another dream.

Science surpasses the old miracles of mythology.

The trail of the serpent reaches into all the lucrative professions and practices of man. Each has its own wrongs. Each finds a tender and very intelligent conscience a disqualification for success. Each requires of the practitioner a certain shutting of the eyes, a certain dapperness and compliance, an acceptance of customs, a sequestration from the sentiments of generosity and love, a compromise of private opinion and lofty integrity.

The beautiful laws of time and space, once dislocated by our inaptitude, are holes and dens. If the hive be disturbed by rash and stupid hands, instead of honey, it will yield us bees.

Indeed the river is a perpetual gala, and boasts each month a new ornament.