rom which he conceives of the whole, shall continually burst forth before him in new and fairer forms.
Let this fresh spiritual youth never grow old within him; let no form become fixed and rigid; let each sunrise bring him new joy and love in his vocation, and larger views of its significance. Fichte.
of Margaret's studies while at Cambridge, I knew personally only of the German.
She already, when I first became acquainted with her, had become familiar with the masterpieces of French, Italian and Spanish literature.
But all this amount of reading had not made her deep-learned in books and shallow in herself; for she brought to the study of most writers a spirit and genius equal or superior,—so far, at least, as the analytic understanding was concerned.
Every writer whom she studied, as every person whom she knew, she placed in his own class, knew his relation to other writers, to the world, to life, to nature, to herself.
Much as they might delight her, they never swept her