That Gracious Thing, Made Up Of Tears

The Form Of Truth Will Bear Exposure, As Well As That Of Beauty Herself.

Nature Has Her Proper Interest; And He Will Know What It Is, Who Believes And Feels, That Every Thing Has A Life Of Its Own, And That We Are All One Life.

Frenchmen Are Like Gunpowder, Each By Itself Smutty And Contemptible, But Mass Them Together And They Are Terrible Indeed!

The Poet, Described In Ideal Perfection, Brings The Whole Soul Of Man Into Activity, With The Subordination Of Its Faculties To Each Other According To Their Relative Worth And Dignity. He Diffuses A Tone And Spirit Of Unity, That Blends, And (as It Were) Fuses , Each Into Each, By That Synthetic And Magical Power, To Which I Would Exclusively Appropriate The Name Of Imagination.

Imagination Is The Living Power And Prime Agent Of All Human Perception.