The words of my book nothing, the drift of it everything.

A great city is that which has the greatest men and women.

Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves?

There will never be any more perfection than there is now.

Wisdom is not finally tested by the schools, Wisdom cannot be pass'd from one having it to another not having it, Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof.

Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest, Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.

Nothing endures but personal qualities.