Look out into the July night, and see the broad belt of silver flame which flashes up the half of heaven, fresh and delicate as the bonfires of the meadow-flies. Yet the powers of numbers cannot compute its enormous age,โlasting as space and time,โembosomed in time and space.
Ralph Waldo EmersonThe only gift is a portion of thyself . . . the poet brings his poem; the shepherd his lamb. . . .
Ralph Waldo EmersonIn every man there is something wherein I may learn of him, and in that I am his pupil.
Ralph Waldo Emerson