Of Her Scorn The Maid Repented, And

The Dead Of Midnight Is The Noon Of Thought.

Man Is The Nobler Growth Our Realms Supply, And Souls Are Ripened In Our Northern Sky.

Let Us Confess A Truth, Humiliating To Human Pride; - A Very Small Part Only Of The Opinions Of The Coolest Philosopher Are The Result Of Fair Reasoning; The Rest Are Formed By His Education, His Temperament, By The Age In Which He Lives, By Trains Of Thought Directed To A Particular Track Through Some Accidental Association - In Short, By Prejudice.

While Genius Was Thus Wasting His Strength In Eccentric Flights, I Saw A Person Of A Very Different Appearance, Named Application.

It Would Be Difficult To Determine Whether The Age Is Growing Better Or Worse; For I Think Our Plays Are Growing Like Sermons, And Our Sermons Like Plays.