Joy, Temperance, And Repose, Slam

Talk Not Of Wasted Affection - Affection Never Was Wasted.

Ah, How Skillful Grows The Hand That Obeyeth Love's Command! It Is The Heart, And Not The Brain, That To The Highest Doth Attain, And He Who Followeth Love's Behest Far Excelleth All The Rest!

Among The Noblest In The Land - Though Man May Count Himself The Least - That Man I Honor And Revere, Who Without Favor, Without Fear, In The Great City Dares To Stand, The Friend Of Every Friendless Beast.

Authors Must Not, Like Chinese Soldiers, Expect To Win Victories By Turning Somersets In The Air.

The True Poet Is A Friendly Man. He Takes To His Arms Even Cold And Inanimate Things, And Rejoices In His Heart.