My Education Was Neglected, Yet

But Her's Was The Misery Of Innocence, Which, Like A Cloud That Passes Over The Fair Moon, For A While Hides, But Cannot Tarnish Its Brightness.

My Father Was Not Scientific, And I Was Left To Struggle With A Child's Blindness, Added To A Student's Thirst For Knowledge.

The Careful Rearer Of The Ductile Human Plant Can Instil His Own Religion, And Surround The Soul By Such A Moral Atmosphere, As Shall Become To Its Latest Day The Air It Breathes.

I Am Not A Person Of Opinions Because I Feel The Counter Arguments Too Strongly.

Poetry, And The Principle Of Self, Of Which Money Is The Visible Incarnation, Are The God And The Mammon Of The World.