All Powerful Souls Have Kindred With Each

A Noise Like Of A Hidden Brook In The Leafy Month Of June, That To The Sleeping Woods All Night Singeth A Quiet Tune.

Nature Is A Wary Wily Long-breathed Old Witch, Tough-lived As A Turtle And Divisible As The Polyp, Repullulative In A Thousand Snips And Cuttings, Integra Et In Toto! She Is Sure To Get The Better Of Lady Mind In The Long Run, And To Take Her Revenge Too Transforms Our To Day Into A Canvass Dead-colored To Receive The Dull Featureless Portait Of Yesterday.

Joy Is The Sweet Voice, Joy The Luminous Cloud. We In Ourselves Rejoice! And Thence Flows All That Charms Or Ear Or Sight, All Melodies The Echoes Of That Voice, All Colours A Suffusion From That Light.

What Comes From The Heart Goes To The Heart

Women Have Their Heads In Their Hearts. Man Seems To Have Been Destined For A Superior Being; As Things Are, I Think Women Generally Better Creatures Than Men. They Have Weaker Appetites And Weaker Intellects But Much Stronger Affections. A Man With A Bad Heart Has Been Sometimes Saved By A Strong Head; But A Corrupt Woman Is Lost Forever.