The Power Of Love, As

In My Utter Impotence To Test The Authenticity Of The Report Of My Senses, To Know Whether The Impressions They Make On Me Correspond With Outlying Objects, What Difference Does It Make, Whether Orion Is Up There In Heaven, Or Some God Paints The Image In The Firmament Of The Soul?

We Estimate The Wisdom Of Nations By Seeing What They Did With Their Surplus Capital.

Solitude Is Impractical And Yet Society Is Fatal.

Overhead The Sanctities Of The Stars Shine Forever-more... Pouring Satire On The Pompous Business Of The Day Which They Close, And Making The Generations Of Men Show Slight And Evanescent.

The Fatal Trait Of The Times Is The Divorce Between Religion And Morality.