We Enter The World Alone,

To Tell Men That They Cannot Help Themselves Is To Fling Them Into Recklessness And Despair.

A Dreamer He Was, And Ever Would Be. Yet Dreaming Need Not Injure Us, If It Do But Take Its Turn With Waking; And Even Dreams Themselves May Be Turned To Beauty, By Favoured Men To Whom Nature Has Given The Powers Of Casting Them Into Form.

I Think Nature, If She Interests Herself Much About Her Children, Must Often Feel That, Like The Miserable Frankenstein, With Her Experimenting Among The Elements Of Humanity, She Has Brought Beings Into Existence Who Have No Business Here; Who Can Do None Of Her Work, And Endure None Of Her Favours; Whose Life Is Only Suffering; And Whose Action Is One Long Protest Against The Ill Foresight Which Flung Them Into Consciousness.

There Are Epidemics Of Nobleness As Well As Epidemics Of Disease.

Woe To The Unlucky Man Who As A Child Is Taught, Even As A Portion Of His Creed, What His Grown Reason Must Forswear.