So Shall I Join The

It Is A Narrow Mind Which Cannot Look At A Subject From Various Points Of View.

How Should All The Apparatus Of Heaven And Earth Make Poetry For A Mind That Had No Movements Of Awe And Tenderness, No Sense Of Fellowship Which Thrills From The Near To The Distant, And Back Again From The Distant To The Near?

Worldly Faces Never Look So Worldly As At A Funeral. They Have The Same Effect Of Grating Incongruity As The Sound Of A Coarse Voice Breaking The Solemn Silence Of Night.

What Novelty Is Worth That Sweet Monotony Where Everything Is Known, And Loved Because It Is Known?

A Woman's Lot Is Made For Her By The Love She Accepts.