That Agony Returns; And Till My Ghastly

Nor Dim Nor Red, Like God's Own Head, The Glorious Sun Uprist

Humor Is Consistent With Pathos, Whilst Wit Is Not.

To Leave No Interval Between The Sentence And The Fulfillment Of It Doth Beseem God Only, The Immutable!

The Genius Of Coleridge Is Like A Sunken Treasure Ship, And Coleridge A Diver Too Timid And Lazy To Bring Its Riches To The Surface.

Nature Never Deserts The Wise And Pure; No Plot So Narrow, Be But Nature There; No Waste So Vacant, But May Well Employ Each Faculty Of Sense, And Keep The Heart Awake To Love And Beauty.