He Prayeth Best Who Loveth Best.

There Is Small Chance Of Truth At The Goal, Where There Is Not Childlike Humility At The Starting-post.

No Man Was Ever Yet A Great Poet, Without Being At The Same Time A Profound Philosopher. For Poetry Is The Blossom And The Fragrance Of All Human Knowledge, Human Thoughts, Human Passions, Emotions, Language.

Call Not That Man Wretched, Who Whatever Else He Suffers As To Pain Inflicted, Or Pleasure Denied, Has A Child For Whom He Hopes And On Whom He Doats.

I Look'd To Heav'n, And Try'd To Pray; But Or Ever A Prayer Had Gusht, A Wicked Whisper Came And Made My Heart As Dry As Dust.

Therefore All Seasons Shall Be Sweet To Thee, Whether The Summer Clothe The General Earth With Greenness, Or The Redbreast Sit And Sing Betwixt The Tufts Of Snow On The Bare Branch Of Mossy Apple Tree.