We Are Imprisoned In Life In The

Everything Intercepts Us From Ourselves.

As Sunbeams Stream Through Liberal Space And Nothing Jostle Or Displace, So Waved The Pine-tree Through My Thought And Fanned The Dreams It Never Brought.

Happy Will That House Be In Which The Relations Are Formed From Character; After The Highest, And Not After The Lowest Order; The House In Which Character Marries, And Not Confusion And A Miscellany Of Unavowable Motives.

Morality Is The Object Of Government.

Each Moment Of The Year Has Its Own Beauty.