The Highest Intellects, Like The Tops Of

Mere Negation, Mere Epicurean Infidelity, As Lord Bacon Most Justly Observes, Has Never Disturbed The Peace Of The World. It Furnishes No Motive For Action; It Inspires No Enthusiasm; It Has No Missionaries, No Crusades, No Martyrs.

By Poetry We Mean The Art Of Employing Of Words In Such A Manner As To Produce An Illusion On The Imagination; The Art Of Doing By Means Of Words, What The Painter Does By Means Of Colors.

The Church Is The Handmaid Of Tyranny And The Steady Enemy Of Liberty.

As Civilization Advances, Poetry Almost Necessarily Declines.

Only Imagine A Man Acting For One Single Day On The Supposition That All His Neighbors Believe All That They Profess, And Act Up To All That They Believe!