Where There Is Much Freedom There Is

Let Him That Sows The Serpent's Teeth Not Hope To Reap A Joyous Harvest. Every Crime Has, In The Moment Of Its Perpetration, Its Own Avenging Angel,--dark Misgivings At The Inmost Heart.

The Will Of Man Is His Happiness.

It Is Not The Mere Station Of Life That Stamps The Value On Us, But The Manner In Which We Act Our Part.

There Is A Nobility In The World Of Manners.

Even Now, Nature Is The Only Flame, On Which The Poetic Spirit Feeds; From It Alone It Draws All Its Power, To It Alone It Speaks Even In The Artificial, In The Man Engaged In Culture.