And In Today Already Walks Tomorrow.

Painting Is The Intermediate Somewhat Between A Thought And A Thing.

Heart-chilling Superstition! Thou Canst Glaze Even Pity's Eye With Her Own Frozen Tear.

All Thoughts, All Passions, All Delights Whatever Stirs This Mortal Frame All Are But Ministers Of Love And Feed His Sacred Flame.

I Look'd To Heav'n, And Try'd To Pray; But Or Ever A Prayer Had Gusht, A Wicked Whisper Came And Made My Heart As Dry As Dust.

I May Not Hope From Outward Forms To Win / The Passion And The Life, Whose Fountains Are Within.