We All Walk In Mysteries. We Are

Superstition Is The Poesy Of Practical Life; Hence, A Poet Is None The Worse For Being Superstitious.

Nature! We Live In Her Midst And Know Her Not. She Is Incessantly Speaking To Us, But Betrays Not Her Secret. We Constantly Act Upon Her, And Yet Have No Power Over Her. Variant: Nature! We Are Surrounded And Embraced By Her: Powerless To Separate Ourselves From Her, And Powerless To Penetrate Beyond Her.

The Important Thing Is Not To Know More Than All Men, But To Know More At Each Moment Than Any Particular Man.

Yet He Who Grasps The Moment's Gift, He Is The Proper Man.

Music Is So Elevated That It Is Beyond The Reach Of Intellect And There Flows From It An Influence Which Is All-potent, And Which Noone Can Explain.