Even The Law Of Gravitation Would Be

The Merit Of Poetry, In Its Wildest Forms, Still Consists In Its Truth-truth Conveyed To The Understanding, Not Directly By The Words, But Circuitously By Means Of Imaginative Associations, Which Serve As Its Conductors.

But Thou, Through Good And Evil, Praise And Blame, Wilt Not Thou Love Me For Myself Alone? Yes, Thou Wilt Love Me With Exceeding Love, And I Will Tenfold All That Love Repay; Still Smiling, Though The Tender May Reprove, Still Faithful, Though The Trusted May Betray.

The Saviour Of Mankind Himself, In Whose Blameless Life Malice Could Find No Act To Impeach, Has Been Called In Question For Words Spoken.

We Deplore The Outrages Which Accompany Revolutions. But The More Violent The Outrages, The More Assured We Feel That A Revolution Was Necessary.

All The Walks Of Literature Are Infested With Mendicants For Fame, Who Attempt To Excite Our Interest By Exhibiting All The Distortions Of Their Intellects And Stripping The Covering From All The Putrid Sores Of Their Feelings.