Love Is Flower Like; Friendship Is Like

Nor Dim Nor Red, Like God's Own Head, The Glorious Sun Uprist

As There Is Much Beast And Some Devil In Man, So Is There Some Angel And Some God In Him. The Beast And The Devil May Be Conquered, But In This Life Never Destroyed.

The First Class Of Readers May Be Compared To An Hour-glass, Their Reading Being As The Sand; It Runs In And Runs Out, And Leaves Not A Vestige Behind. A Second Class Resembles A Sponge, Which Imbibes Everything, And Returns It In Nearly The Same State, Only A Little Dirtier. A Third Class Is Like A Jelly-bag, Which Allows All That Is Pure To Pass Away, And Retains Only The Refuse And Dregs. The Fourth Class May Be Compared To The Slave Of Golconda, Who, Casting Aside All That Is Worthless, Preserves Only The Pure Gems.

Men Of Humor Are Always In Some Degree Men Of Genius; Wits Are Rarely So, Although A Man Of Genius May, Amongst Other Gifts, Possess Wit, As Shakespeare.

Finally, Good Sense Is The Body Of Poetic Genius, Fancy Its Drapery, Motion Its Life, And Imagination The Soul That Is Everywhere And In Each; And Forms All Into One Graceful And Intelligent Whole.