Every Age Thinks Its Battle

First, I Thought, Almost Despairing, This Must Crush My Spirit Now; Yet I Bore It, And Am Bearing- Only Do Not Ask Me How.

The Great Pulsation Of Nature Beats Too In My Breast, And When I Carol Aloud, I Am Answered By A Thousand-fold Echo. I Hear A Thousand Nightingales. Spring Hath Sent Them To Awaken Earth From Her Morning Slumber, And Earth Trembles With Ecstasy, Her Flowers Are Hymns, Which She Sings In Inspiration To The Sun.

Great Genius Takes Shape By Contact With Another Great Genius, But Less By Assimilation Than By Friction.

Music Is A Strange Thing. I Would Almost Say It Is A Miracle.

Poverty Sits By The Cradle Of All Our Great Men And Rocks All Of Them To Manhood.