Yet A Man May Love A Paradox,

Natural Science Sharpens The Discrimination. There Is No False Logic In Nature. All Its Properties Are Permanent: The Acids And Metals Never Lie; Their Yea Is Yea, Their Nay, Nay. They Are Newly Discovered But Not New.

There Comes A Period Of The Imagination To Each--a Later Youth--the Power Of Beauty, The Power Of Looks, Of Poetry.

Virtue Runs Before The Muse, And Defies Her Skill; She Is Rapt And Doth Refuse To Wait A Painter's Will.

Words Are Alive. Cut Them And They Bleed.

The World Is Filled With The Proverbs And Acts And Winkings Of A Base Prudence, Which Is A Devotion To Matter, As If We Possessedno Other Faculties Than The Palate, The Nose, The Touch, The Eye And Ear; A Prudence Which Adores The Rule Of Three, Which Never Subscribes, Which Never Gives, Which Seldom Lends, And Asks But One Question Of Any Project,--will It Bake Bread?