The Creature Has A Purpose, And His

I Am Sailing With Thee Through The Dizzy Sky! How Beautiful Thou Art!

No, No, I'm Sure, My Restless Spirit Never Could Endure To Brood So Long Upon One Luxury, Unless It Did, Though Fearfully, Espy A Hope Beyond The Shadow Of A Dream.

How Beautiful, If Sorrow Had Not Made Sorrow More Beautiful Than Beauty's Self.

I Am Certain Of Nothing But The Holiness Of The Heart's Affections, And The Truth Of Imagination.

The Genius Of Poetry Must Work Out Its Own Salvation In A Man; It Cannot Be Matured By Law And Precept, But By Sensation And Watchfulness In Itself. That Which Is Creative Must Create Itself.