One Hates An Author That's All Author.

Those Who Will Not Reason, Are Bigots, Those Who Cannot, Are Fools, And Those Who Dare Not, Are Slaves.

Grief Is Fantastical, And Loves The Dead, And The Apparel Of The Grave.

Lord Of Himself; That Heritage Of Woe!

There's Music In The Sighing Of A Reed; There's Music In The Gushing Of A Rill; There's Music In All Things, If Men Had Ears; The Earth Is But The Music Of The Spheres.

'tis Solitude Should Teach Us How To Die; It Hath No Flatterers; Vanity Can Give, No Hollow Aid; Alone - Man With God Must Strive.