The Heart Of An Irishman Is Nothing

Be Like The Sun And Meadow, Which Are Not In The Least Concerned About The Coming Winter.

As I Write, There Is A Craze For What Is Called Psychoanalysis, Or The Cure Of Diseases By Explaining To The Patient What Is The Matter With Him: An Excellent Plan If You Happen To Know What Is The Matter With Him, Especially When The Explanation Is That There Is Nothing The Matter With Him.

Give Me The Artist Who Breathes It Like A Native, And Goes About His Work In It As Quietly As A Common Man Goes About His Ordinary Business. Mozart Did So; And That Is Why I Like Him. Even If I Did Not, I Should Pretend To; For A Taste In His Music Is A Mark Of Caste Among Musicians, And Should Be Worn, Like A Tall Hat, By The Amateur Who Wishes To Pass For A True Brahmin.

The More Reasonable A Student Was In Mathematics, The More Unreasonable She Was In The Affairs Of Real Life, Concerning Which Fewtrustworthy Postulates Have Yet Been Ascertained.

You Have Set Up In New York Harbor A Monstrous Idol Which You Call Liberty. The Only Thing That Remains To Complete That Monument Is To Put On Its Pedestal The Inscription Written By Dante On The Gate Of Hell: All Hope Abandon Ye Who Enter Here.