It Was The Secrets Of Heaven And

Elegance Is Inferior To Virtue.

...we Are Unfashioned Creatures, But Half Made Up, If One Wiser, Better, Dearer Than Ourselves - Such A Friend Ought To Be - Do Not Lend His Aid To Perfectionate Our Weak And Faulty Natures.

Her Countenance Was All Expression; Her Eyes Were Not Dark But Impenetrably Deep; You Seemed To Discover Space After Space In Their Intellectual Glance.

For A Moment My Soul Was Elevated From Its Debasing And Miserable Fears To Which These Sights Were The Monuments And The Remembrances. For An Instant I Dared To Shake Off My Chains, And Look Around Me With A Free And Lofty Spirit; But The Iron Had Eaten Into My Flesh, And I Sank Again, Trembling And Hopeless, Into My Miserable Self.

Invention, It Must Be Humbly Admitted, Does Not Consist In Creating Out Of A Void, But Out Of Chaos; The Materials Must In The First Place Be Afforded; It Can Give Form To Dark, Shapeless Substances, But Cannot Bring Into Being The Substance Itself.