The People Fancy They Hate Poetry, And

Heaven Is Large, And Affords Space For All Modes Of Love And Fortitude.

Beware When The Great God Lets Loose A Thinker On This Planet.

By Virtue Of The Deity Thought Renews Itself Inexhaustibly Every Day And The Thing Whereon It Shines, Though It Were Dust And Sand, Is A New Subject With Countless Relations.

Discontent Is Want Of Self-reliance; It Is Infirmity Of Will.

What Forests Of Laurel We Bring, And The Tears Of Mankind, To Those Who Stood Firm Against The Opinion Of Their Contemporaries!