"It is true the orator may make a myriad replica of his own passion out of those who listen to him. B..." — George William Russell

We dwell in the house of the body, but its perfection and intricate life are the work of a wisdom which never relaxes dominion over a single cell.

Twilight, a timid, fawn, went glimmering by, and Night, the dark-blue hunter, followed fast.

Seek on earth what you have found in heaven.

We have control over the work of our hands, but little over the working of the soul. But yet we must yield to it, for without it we have nothing.