Living in the city is a discordant thing, an unnatural thing. The city, a place to which one goes to do business, is a place where men overreach each other in the fight for money. But it is not a place in which one can live.
If you think you can do it, you can.
All birds are incipient or would-be songsters in the spring. I find corroborative evidence of this even in the crowing of the cock.
Life is a struggle, but not a warfare.
Without the emotion of the beautiful, the sublime, the mysterious, there is no art, no religion, no literature.
If we take science as our sole guide, if we accept and hold fast that alone which is verifiable, the old theology must go.
