To Hard Necessity Ones Will And Fancy

I Do Not Now Begin, - I Still Adore Her Whom I Early Cherish'd In My Breast; Then Once Again With Prudence Dispossess'd, And To Whose Heart I'm Driven Back Once More. The Love Of Petrarch, That All-glorious Love, Was Unrequited, And, Alas, Full Sad.

Distance... Is Like Futurity. A Dim Vastness Is Spread Before Our Souls; The Perceptions Of Our Mind Are As Obscure As Those Of Our Vision... But Alas! When We Have Attained Our Object, When The Distant 'there' Becomes The Present 'here,' All Is Changed; We Are As Poor And Circumscribed As Ever, And Our Souls Still Languish For Unattainable Happiness.

I Can Tell You, Honest Friend, What To Believe: Believe Life; It Teaches Better That Book Or Orator.

Nature Is So Perfect That The Trinity Couldn't Have Fashioned Her Any More Perfect. She Is An Organ On Which Our Lord Plays And The Devil Works The Bellows.

Miracle Is The Pet Child Of Faith.