Not Deep The Poet Sees,

The Bent Of Our Time Is Towards Science, Towards Knowing Things As They Are.

I Knew The Mass Of Men Conceal'd Their Thoughts, For Fear That If Reveal'd They Would By Other Men Be Met With Blank Indifference.

Culture, Then, Is A Study Of Perfection, And Perfection Which Insists On Becoming Something Rather Than In Having Something, In An Inward Condition Of The Mind And Spirit, Not In An Outward Set Of Circumstances.

Unquiet Souls. In The Dark Fermentation Of Earth, In The Never Idle Workshop Of Nature, In The Eternal Movement, Yea Shall Find Yourselves Again.

What Really Dissatisfies In American Civilisation Is The Want Of The Interesting, A Want Due Chiefly To The Want Of Those Two Great Elements Of The Interesting, Which Are Elevation And Beauty.