The Love Of Nature Is

We Must Certainly Acknowledge That Solitude Is A Fine Thing; But It Is A Pleasure To Have Some One Who Can Answer, And To Whom We Can Say, From Time To Time, That Solitude Is A Fine Thing.

Ah! The Soft Starlight Of Virgin Eyes.

Charity Is Not One Of The Virtues Practiced On The Stock Market. The Heart Of A Bank Is But One Of Many Viscera.

There Are Houses In Certain Provincial Towns Whose Aspect Inspires Melancholy, Akin To That Called Forth By Sombre Cloisters, Dreary Moorlands, Or The Desolation Of Ruins. Within These Houses There Is, Perhaps, The Silence Of The Cloister, The Barrenness Of Moors, The Skeleton Of Ruins; Life And Movement Are So Stagnant There That A Stranger Might Think Them Uninhabited, Were It Not That He Encounters Suddenly The Pale, Cold Glance Of A Motionless Person, Whose Half-monastic Face Peers Beyond The Window-casing At The Sound Of An Unaccustomed Step.

We Must Have Books For Recreation And Entertainment, As Well As Books For Instruction And For Business; The Former Are Agreeable, The Latter Useful, And The Human Mind Requires Both. The Cannon Law And The Codes Of Justinian Shall Have Due Honor, And Reign At The Universities; But Homer And Virgil Need Not Therefore Be Banished. We Will Cultivate The Olive And The Vine, But Without Eradicating The Myrtle And The Rose.