Soul Of The Universe, Sire, God, Creator,

Music Is The Literature Of The Heart; It Commences Where Speech Ends.

Reading Furnishes The Mind Only With Materials Of Knowledge; It Is Thinking That Makes What We Read Ours. I Am The Fellow Citizen Of Every Being That Thinks; My Country Is Truth.

Men Are Misers, And Women Prodigal, In Affection.

Time Is A Great Ocean Which, Like The Other Ocean, Overflows With Our Remains.

Shall Not This Bygone Eden That We Knew In Our Eternal Life Have Shape And Hue? For Where Time Is Not Shall Not All Time Be? In That Calm Breast Whereto Our Souls Are Cleaving Shall We Not Find Our Loved Ones Beyond Grieving About The Hearth-stone Of Eternity?