The Soul Is Not Born;

The Poet Alone Knows Astronomy, Chemistry, Vegetation, And Animation, For He Does Not Stop At These Facts, But Employs Them As Signs. He Knows Why The Plain, Or Meadow Of Space, Was Strown With These Flowers We Call Suns, And Moons, And Stars; Why The Deep Is Adorned With Animals, With Men, And Gods; For, In Every Word He Speaks He Rides On Them As The Horses Of Thought.

Tis Good-will Makes Intelligence.

When You Have Worn Out Your Shoes, The Strength Of The Show Fiber Has Passed Into Your Body.

We Might As Easily Reprove The East Wind, Or The Frost, As A Political Party, Whose Members, For The Most Part, Could Give No Account Of Their Position, But Stand For The Defence Of Those Interests In Which They Find Themselves.

Nature Is No Spendthrift, But Takes The Shortest Way To Her Ends.