We Have Not Read An

He That Works And Does Some Poem, Not He That Merely Says One, Is Worthy Of The Name Of Poet.

Well Might The Ancients Make Silence A God; For It Is The Element Of All Godhood, Infinitude, Or Transcendental Greatness,--at Once The Source And The Ocean Wherein All Such Begins And Ends.

Feel It In Thy Heart And Then Say Whether It Is Of God!

Superstition! That Horrid Incubus Which Dwelt In Darkness, Shunning The Light, With All Its Racks, And Poison Chalices, And Foul Sleeping Draughts, Is Passing Away Without Return. Religion Cannot Pass Away. The Burning Of A Little Straw May Hide The Stars Of The Sky; But The Stars Are There And Will Reappear.

Universal History, The History Of What Man Has Accomplished In This World, Is At Bottom The History Of The Great Men Who Have Worked Here.