When We Are Exalted By Ideas, We

The Glory Of The Farmer Is That, In The Division Of Labors, It Is His Part To Create. All Trade Rests At Last On His Primitive Activity. He Stands Close To Nature; He Obtains From The Earth The Bread And The Meat. The Food Which Was Not, He Causes To Be.

Fear Is An Instructor Of Great Sagacity, And The Herald Of All Revolutions.

If With Love Thy Heart Has Burned; If Thy Love Is Unreturned; Hide Thy Grief Within Thy Breast, Though It Tear Thee Unexpressed.

[on Thoreau:] For Not A Particle Of Respect Had He To The Opinions Of Any Man Or Body Of Men, But Homage Solely To Truth Itself.

One More Fagot Of These Adamantine Bandages Is The New Science Of Statistics.