Who Strives Always To The Utmost, Him

After All, Poets Shouldn't Be Their Own Interpreters And Shouldn't Carefully Dissect Their Poems Into Everyday Prose; That Would Mean The End Of Being Poets. Poets Send Their Creations Into The World, It Is Up To The Reader, The Aesthetician, And The Critic To Determine What They Wanted To Say With Their Creations.

Wood Burns Because It Has The Proper Stuff In It; And A Man Becomes Famous Because He Has The Proper Stuff In Him.

The Theater Has Often Been At Variance With The Pulpit; They Ought Not To Quarrel. How Much Is It To Be Wished That In Both The Celebration Of Nature And Of God Were Intrusted To None But Men Of Noble Minds.

The Rainbow Mirrors Human Aims And Action. Think, And More Clearly Wilt Thou Grasp It, Seeing Life Is But Light In Many-hued Reflection.

I Examine My Own Being, And Find There A World, But A World Rather Of Imagination And Dim Desires, Than Of Distinctness And Living Power. Then Everything Swims Before My Senses, And I Smile And Dream While Pursuing My Way Through The World.