An Undevout Poet Is An

But Oh! Each Visitation Suspends What Nature Gave Me Any My Birth, My Shaping Spirit Of Imagination.

I Have Often Been Surprised That Mathematics, The Quintessence Of Truth, Should Have Found Admirers So Few And So Languid. Frequent Consideration And Minute Scrutiny Have At Length Unravelled The Cause: Viz . That Though Reason Is Feasted, Imagination Is Starved; Whilst Reason Is Luxuriating In Its Proper Paradise, Imagination Is Wearily Travelling On A Dreary Desert.

A Falsehood Is, In One Sense, A Dead Thing; But Too Often It Moves About, Galvanized By Self-will, And Pushes The Living Out Of Their Seats.

Common Sense In An Uncommon Degree Is What The World Calls Wisdom.

When The Whole And The Parts Are Seen At Once, As Mutually Producing And Explaining Each Other, As Unity In Multeity, There Results Shapeliness.