Every Crime Has, In The Moment Of

To Know, To Esteem, To Love,-and Then To Part, Makes Up Life's Tale To Many A Feeling Heart.

Deep Thinking Is Attainable Only By A Man Of Deep Feeling, And All Truth Is A Species Of Revelation

Man Is Distinguished From The Brute Animals In Proportion As Thought Prevails Over Sense: But In The Healthy Processes Of The Mind, A Balance Is Constantly Maintained Between The Impressions From Outward Objects And The Inward Operations Of The Intellect:--for If There Be An Overbalance In The Contemplative Faculty, Man Thereby Becomes The Creature Of Mere Meditation, And Loses His Natural Power Of Action.

All Nature Seems At Work. Slugs Leave Their Lair The Bees Are Stirring, Birds Are On The Wing, And Winter Slumbering In The Open Air, Wears On His Smiling Face A Dream Of Spring.

The Secondary Imagination I Consider As An Echo Of The Former, Co-existing With The Conscious Will, Yet Still As Identical With The Primary In The Kind Of Its Agency, And Differing Only In Degree, And In The Mode Of Its Operation. It Dissolves, Diffuses, Dissipates, In Order To Recreate: Or Where This Process Is Rendered Impossible, Yet Still At All Events It Struggles To Idealize And To Unify. It Is Essentially Vital, Even As All Objects (as Objects) Are Essentially Fixed And Dead.