Sing, Riding 's A Joy! For Me

And Gain Is Gain, However Small.

Graved Inside Of It, "italy".

Ever Judge Of Men By Their Professions. For Though The Bright Moment Of Promising Is But A Moment, And Cannot Be Prolonged, Yet If Sincere In Its Moment's Extravagant Goodness, Why, Trust It, And Know The Man By It, I Say,- Not By His Performance; Which Is Half The World's Work, Interfere As The World Needs Must With Its Accidents And Circumstances: The Profession Was Purely The Man's Own. I Judge People By What They Might Be,- Not Are, Nor Will Be.

What So Wild As Words Are?

All Poetry Is Putting The Infinite Within The Finite.