True Love Is The Ripe Fruit Of

Argument Should Be Polite As Well As Logical.

And When Night, Guiding Her Bright Train Of Stars, Throws O'er The Sleeping World Her Gloomy Veil, Lonely Amidst The Desert And The Darkness, Musing Upon The Night's Calm Majesty; Wrapt Up In Quietness, With Shade And Silence, My Soul More Closely Worshippeth Thy Presence; With An Internal Day I Feel Enlighten'd, And Hear A Voice, Which Biddeth Me To Hope.

Ink Is The Transcript Of Thought.

But Nature Too, Shakes Off Her Sleep Today; By May's Mild Sun We See Reviv'd Her Frame, Around My Window Venus' Birds Proclaim, The Month Most Cherish'd Backwards Bends His Way!

Religions Are Not Proved, Are Not Demonstrated, Are Not Established, Are Not Overthrown By Logic! They Are Of All The Mysteries Of Nature And The Human Mind, The Most Mysterious And Most Inexplicable; They Are Of Instinct And Not Of Reason.