God Is The Poetic Genius

How Can The Bird That Is Born For Joy Sit In A Cage And Sing? How Can A Child, When Fears Annoy, But Droop His Tender Wing, And Forget His Youthful Spring?

Then My Verse I Dishonor, My Pictures Despise, My Person Degrade And My Temper Chastise; And The Pen Is My Terror, The Pencil My Shame; And My Talents I Bury, And Dead Is My Fame.

To Generalize Is To Be An Idiot. To Particularize Is The Alone Distinction Of Merit. General Knowledge Are Those Knowledge That Idiots Possess.

In The Universe, There Are Things That Are Known, And Things That Are Unknown, And In Between, There Are Doors.

Gratitude Is Heaven Itself.