Truth Sits Upon The Lips Of Dying

Was Christ A Man Like Us?-ah! Let Us Try If We Then, Too, Can Be Such Men As He!

Nature Herself Seems, I Say, To Take The Pen Out Of His Hand, And To Write For Him With Her Own Bare, Sheer, Penetrating Power.

And Thou, Who Didst The Stars And Sunbeams Know, / Self-schooled, Self-scanned, Self-honoured, Self-secure / Didst Tread On Earth Unguessed At. Better So!.

On The Breast Of That Huge Mississippi Of Falsehood Called History, A Foam-bell More Or Less Is No Consequence.

How Many Minds--almost All The Great Ones--were Formed In Secrecy And Solitude!