Gratitude Is Heaven Itself.

Although Wine When It Is Read Somewhat Lacks The Savour Of Wine When It Is Drunk, Wine Remains A Very Pleasant Thing Both To Read About And To Chat About.

Nature Has No Outline. Imagination Has.

On No Other Ground Can I Sow My Seed Without Tearing Up Some Stinking Weed.

To The Eyes Of The Man Of Imagination, Nature Is Imagination Itself.

O Thou With Dewy Locks, Who Lookest Down Thro' The Clear Windows Of The Morning, Turn Thine Angel Eyes Upon Our Western Isle, Which In Full Choir Hails Thy Approach, O Spring! The Hills Tell Each Other, And The Listening Valleys Hear; All Our Longing Eyes Are Turned Up To Thy Bright Pavilions: Issue Forth, And Let Thy Holy Feet Visit Our Clime. Come O'er The Eastern Hills, And Let Our Winds Kiss Thy Perfumed Garments; Let Us Taste Thy Morn And Evening Breath; Scatter Thy Pearls Upon Our Love-sick Land That Mourns For Thee.