For The Infinite Has Sowed His Name

Romanticism Is Beauty Without Bounds-the Beautiful Infinite.

The Happiness Of Life Consists, Like The Day, Not In Single Flashes (of Light), But In One Continuous Mild Serenity. The Most Beautiful Period Of The Heart's Existence Is In This Calm Equable Light, Even Although It Be Only Moonshine Or Twilight. Now The Mind Alone Can Obtain For Us This Heavenly Cheerfulness And Peace.

It Is Not The End Of Joy That Makes Old Age So Sad, But The End Of Hope.

Two Aged Men, That Had Been Foes For Life, Met By A Grave, And Wept - And In Those Tears They Washed Away The Memory Of Their Strife; Then Wept Again The Loss Of All Those Years.

A Variety Of Nothing Is Superior To A Monotony Of Something.