To Be Thoroughly Conversant With Man’s Heart,

And Now Have I Not Told You That What You Mistake For Madness Is But Overacuteness Of The Senses?

And All I Loved, I Loved Alone.

The Enormous Multiplication Of Books In Every Branch Of Knowledge Is One Of The Greatest Evils Of This Age, Since It Presents One Of The Most Serious Obstacles To The Acquisition Of Correct Information By Throwing In The Reader's Way Piles Of Lumber In Which He Must Painfully Grope For The Scraps Of Useful Matter, Peradventure Interspersed.

The Generous Critic Fann'd The Poet's Fire, And Taught The World With Reason To Admire.

The Rudiment Of Verse May, Possibly, Be Found In The Spondee.