Whatever we think and say is wonderfully better for our spirits and trust in another mouth.

Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a stone; the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing.

When we have arrived at the question, the answer is already near.

There is one topic peremptorily forbidden to all well-bred, to all rational mortals, namely, their distempers.

Culture is the suggestion, from certain best thoughts, that a man has a range of affinities through which he can modulate the violence of any master-tones that have a droning preponderance in his scale, and succor him against himself. Culture redresses this imbalance, puts him among equals and superiors, revives the delicious sense of sympathy, and warns him of the dangers of solitude and repulsion.

Self-reliance is its aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and customs.

You shall not come nearer a man by getting into his house.