The World Is Weary Of The Past,

Life, Like A Dome Of Many-coloured Glass, Stains The White Radiance Of Eternity.

The Great Secret Of Morals Is Love; Or A Going Out Of Our Own Nature, And An Identification Of Ourselves With The Beautiful Which Exists In Thought, Action, Or Person, Not Our Own.

The Great Instrument Of Moral Good Is The Imagination.

Words Are But Holy As The Deeds They Cover.

Poetry Is A Sword Of Lightning, Ever Unsheathed, Which Consumes The Scabbard That Would Contain It.