To Be Weak Is Miserable,

A Good Book Is The Precious Lifeblood Of A Master Spirit.

They, Looking Back, All The Eastern Side Beheld Of Paradise, So Late Their Happy Seat, Waved Over By That Flaming Brand, The Gate With Dreadful Faces Thronged And Fiery Arms: Some Natural Tears They Dropped, But Wiped Them Soon; The World Was All Before Them, Where To Choose Their Place Of Rest, And Providence Their Guide; They, Hand In Hand, With Wandering Steps And Slow, Through Eden Took Their Solitary Way.

The Childhood Shows The Man, As Morning Shows The Day.

By Night The Glass Of Galileo ... Observes Imagin'd Land And Regions In The Moon.

Quips And Cranks And Wanton Wiles, Nods And Becks And Wreathèd Smiles.