That Queen Of Secrecy, The Violet.

This Living Hand, Now Warm And Capable Of Earnest Grasping, Would, If It Were Cold And In The Icy Silence Of The Tomb, So Haunt Thy Days And Chill Thy Dreaming Nights That Thou Would Wish Thine Own Heart Dry Of Blood, So In My Veins Red Life Might Stream Again, And Thou Be Conscience-calm'd. See, Here It Is-- I Hold It Towards You.

Many Have Original Minds Who Do Not Think It - They Are Led Away By Custom!

We Read Fine Things But Never Feel Them To The Full Until We Have Gone The Same Steps As The Author.

We Must Repeat The Often Repeated Saying, That It Is Unworthy A Religious Man To View An Irreligious One Either With Alarm Or Aversion, Or With Any Other Feeling Than Regret And Hope And Brotherly Commiseration.

Praise Or Blame Has But A Momentary Effect On The Man Whose Love Of Beauty In The Abstract Makes Him A Severe Critic On His Own Works.