He Prayeth Best Who Loveth Best.

We Ne'er Can Be Made Happy By Compulsion.

That Passage Is What I Call The Sublime Dashed To Pieces By Cutting Too Close With The Fiery Four-in-hand Round The Corner Of Nonsense.

The Happiness Of Life Is Made Up Of Minute Fractions - The Little, Soon Forgotten Charities Of A Kiss Or A Smile, A Kind Look Or Heartfelt Compliment.

To Sentence A Man Of True Genius, To The Drudgery Of A School Is To Put A Racehorse On A Treadmill.

Sir, I Admit Your General Rule, That Every Poet Is A Fool, But You Yourself May Serve To Show It, That Every Fool Is Not A Poet.