Conscience Is The Pulse Of Reason

And In Today Already Walks Tomorrow.

Love Is The Admiration And Cherishing Of The Amiable Qualities Of The Beloved Person, Upon The Condition Of Yourself Being The Object Of Their Action.

Dryden 's Genius Was Of That Sort Which Catches Fire By Its Own Motion; His Chariot Wheels Get Hot By Driving Fast.

Farce Is Nearer Tragedy In Its Essence Than Comedy Is.

And What If All Of Animated Nature Be But Organic Harps Diversely Framed, That Tremble Into Thought, As O'er Them Sweeps, Plastic And Vast, One Intellectual Breeze, At Once The Soul Of Each, And God Of All?