Sweet Are The Pleasures That

I Should Write For The Mere Yearning And Fondness I Have For The Beautiful, Even If My Night's Labors Should Be Burnt Every Morning And No Eye Shine Upon Them.

I Came To Feel How Far Above All Fancy, Pride, And Fickle Maidenhood, All Earthly Pleasure, All Imagined Good, Was The Warm Tremble Of A Devout Kiss.

The Imagination May Be Compared To Adam's Dream-he Awoke And Found It Truth.

We Read Fine Things But Never Feel Them To The Full Until We Have Gone The Same Steps As The Author.

His Religion At Best Is An Anxious Wish,-like That Of Rabelais, A Great Perhaps.