Saying Is One Thing And Doing Is

A Wellborn Mind That Is Practiced In Dealing With People Makes Itself Thoroughly Agreeable By Itself. Art Is Nothing Else But Thelist And Record Of The Productions Of Such Minds.

People Of Our Time Are So Formed For Agitation And Ostentation That Goodness, Moderation, Equability, Constancy, And Such Quiet And Obscure Qualities Are No Longer Felt.

The World Is All A Carcass And Vanity, The Shadow Of A Shadow, A Play And In One Word, Just Nothing.

We Find Ourselves More Taken With The Running Up And Down, The Games, And Puerile Simplicities Of Our Children, Than We Do, Afterward, With Their Most Complete Actions; As If We Had Loved Them For Our Sport, Like Monkeys, And Not As Men.

We Are All Patchwork, And So Shapeless And Diverse In Composition That Each Bit, Each Moment, Plays Its Own Game.