Truth Illuminates And Gives Joy; And It

Unquiet Souls. In The Dark Fermentation Of Earth, In The Never Idle Workshop Of Nature, In The Eternal Movement, Yea Shall Find Yourselves Again.

But Thou, My Son, Study To Make Prevail One Colour In Thy Life, The Hue Of Truth.

The Bent Of Our Time Is Towards Science, Towards Knowing Things As They Are.

Poetry Interprets In Two Ways: It Interprets By Expressing, With Magical Felicity, The Physiognomy And Movements Of The Outward World; And It Interprets By Expressing, With Inspired Conviction, The Ideas And Laws Of The Inward World Of Man's Moral And Spiritual Nature. In Other Words, Poetry Is Interpretative Both By Having Natural Magic In It, And By Having Moral Profundity.

Not Deep The Poet Sees, But Wide.