Until You Understand A Writer's Ignorance, Presume

He Went Like One That Hath Been Stunn'd, And Is Of Sense Forlorn: A Sadder And A Wiser Man He Rose The Morrow Morn.

Greatness And Goodness Are Not Means, But Ends! Hath He Not Always Treasures, Always Friends, The Good Great Man? Three Treasures, Love And Light, And Calm Thoughts, Regular As Infants' Breath; And Three Firm Friends, More Sure Than Day And Night, Himself, His Maker, And The Angel Death.

There Is One Art Of Which People Should Be Masters - The Art Of Reflection.

To Know, To Esteem, To Love,-and Then To Part, Makes Up Life's Tale To Many A Feeling Heart.

Genius Must Have Talent As Its Complement And Implement, Just As In Like Manner Imagination Must Have Fancy. In Short, The Higher Intellectual Powers Can Only Act Through A Corresponding Energy Of The Lower.