People Seem To Have A

Know, Thou, That The Lines That Live Are Turned Out Of A Furrowed Brow.

You Must Have Plenty Of Sea-room To Tell The Truth In.

Man, In The Ideal, Is So Noble And So Sparkling, Such A Grand And Glowing Creature, That Over Any Ignominious Blemish In Him All His Fellows Should Run To Throw Their Costliest Robes.

The Sea Had Jeeringly Kept His Finite Body Up, But Drowned The Infinite Of His Soul.

We May Have Civilized Bodies And Yet Barbarous Souls.