That Which Is Eternal In

So Dear Night The Half Of Life Is, And The Fairest Half Indeed.

Every Reader, If He Has A Strong Mind, Reads Himself Into The Book, And Amalgamates His Thoughts With Those Of The Author.

The Mortal Race Is Far Too Weak Not To Grow Dizzy On Unwonted Brights. [ger., Das Sterbliche Geschlecht Ist Viel Zu Schwach In Ungewohnter Hohe Nicht Zu Schwindeln.]

I Have Observed That As Long As One Lives And Bestirs Himself, He Can Always Find Food And Raiment, Though It May Not Be Of The Choicest Description.

Modern Poets Mix Too Much Water With Their Ink. [ger., Neuere Poeten Thun Viel Wasser In Die Tinte.]