We live by our imagination, our admirations, and our sentiments.
Where there is no vision a people perish.
We postpone our literary work until we have more ripeness and skill to write, and we one day discover that our literary talent wasa youthful effervescence which we have now lost.
There is more in every person's soul than we think.
Things are in the saddle. And ride mankind.
Words are finite organs of the infinite mind. They cannot cover the dimensions of what is in truth. They break, chop, and impoverish it.