I Have A Heart With Room For

Life's But A Means Unto An End, That End, Beginning, Mean, And End To All Things--god.

Obey Thy Genius, For A Minister It Is Unto The Throne Of Fate. Draw To Thy Soul, And Centralize The Rays Which Are Around Of The Divinity.

Surely The Stars Are Images Of Love.

The Poet's Pen Is The True Divining Rod Which Trembles Towards The Inner Founts Of Feeling; Bringing To Light And Use, Else Hid From All, The Many Sweet Clear Sources Which We Have Of Good And Beauty In Our Own Deep Bosoms; And Marks The Variations Of All Mind As Does The Needle.

It Is Much Less What We Do Than What We Think, Which Fits Us For The Future.