May Is A Pious Fraud Of The

The Stiff Rails Were Softened To Swan's-down, And Still Fluttered Down The Snow.

In The Scale Of The Destinies, Brawn Will Never Weigh So Mach As Brain.

There Are Two Kinds Of Genius. The First And Highest May Be Said To Speak Out Of The Eternal To The Present, And Must Compel Its Age To Understand It; The Second Understands Its Age, And Tells It What It Wishes To Be Told.

Though Old The Thought And Oft Exprest, Tis His At Last Who Says It Best.

It Is The Vain Endeavor To Make Ourselves What We Are Not That Has Strewn History With So Many Broken Purposes And Lives Left In The Rough.