And I, The While, The

All Thoughts, All Passions, All Delights Whatever Stirs This Mortal Frame All Are But Ministers Of Love And Feed His Sacred Flame.

Wherever You Find A Sentence Musically Worded, Of True Rhythm And Melody In The Words, There Is Something Deep And Good In The Meaning Too.

The Age Seems Sore From Excess Of Stimulation, Just As A Day Or Two After A Thorough Debauch And Long Sustained Drinking-match A Man Feels All Over Like A Bruise. Even To Admire Otherwise Than On The Whole And Where "i Admire" Is But A Synonyme For "i Remember, I Liked It Very Much When I Was Reading It ," Is Too Much An Effort, Would Be Too Disquieting An Emotion!

How Many Of Our Virtues Originate In The Fear Of Death & That While We Flatter Ourselves That We Are Melting In Christian Sensibility Over The Sorrows Of Our Human Brethren And Sisteren, We Are In Fact, Tho' Perhaps Unconsciously, Moved At The Prospect Of Our Own End For Who Sincerely Pities Sea-sickness, Toothache, Or A Fit Of The Gout In A Lusty Good-liver Of 50?

Man Is Distinguished From The Brute Animals In Proportion As Thought Prevails Over Sense: But In The Healthy Processes Of The Mind, A Balance Is Constantly Maintained Between The Impressions From Outward Objects And The Inward Operations Of The Intellect:--for If There Be An Overbalance In The Contemplative Faculty, Man Thereby Becomes The Creature Of Mere Meditation, And Loses His Natural Power Of Action.