Society Has No Bribe For Me.

Conversation In Society Is Found To Be On A Platform So Low As To Exclude Science, The Saint, And The Poet.

The Stupidity Of Men Always Invites The Insolence Of Power.

Nature Is A Rag-merchant, Who Works Up Every Shred And Ort And End Into New Creations; Like A Good Chemist, Whom I Found, The Other Day, In His Laboratory, Converting His Old Shirts Into Pure White Sugar.

The Poem Is A Confession Of Faith.

All Successful Men Have Agreed In One Thing -- They Were Causationists. They Believed That Things Went Not By Luck, But By Law; That There Was Not A Weak Or A Cracked Link In The Chain That Joins The First And Last Of Things.