I Came To Realize Clearly

In General I Do Not Draw Well With Literary Men -- Not That I Dislike Them But I Never Know What To Say To Them After I Have Praised Their Last Publication.

From The Mingled Strength Of Shade And Light A New Creation Rises To My Sight, Such Heav'nly Figures From His Pencil Flow, So Warm With Light His Blended Colors Glow. . . . . The Glowing Portraits, Fresh From Life, That Bring Home To Our Hearts The Truth From Which They Spring.

The Keenest Pangs The Wretched Find Are Rapture To The Dreary Void, The Leafless Desert Of The Mind, The Waste Of Feelings Unemployed.

The Reading Or Non-reading A Book Will Never Keep Down A Single Petticoat.

I Am Surrounded Here By Parsons And Methodists, But As You Will See, Not Infested With The Mania.