Wit, Like Money, Bears An

A Creature Undefiled By The Taint Of The World, Unvexed By Its Injustice, Unwearied By Its Hollow Pleasures; A Being Fresh From The Source Of Light, With Something Of Its Universal Lustre In It. If Childhood Be This, How Holy The Duty To See That In Its Onward Growth It Shall Be No Other!

Earth Is Here So Kind, That Just Tickle Her With A Hoe And She Laughs With A Harvest.

Love The Sea? I Dote Upon It--from The Beach.

That Man Is Thought A Dangerous Knave, Or Zealot Plotting Crime, Who For Advancement Of His Kind Is Wiser Than His Time.

Quality, Not Quantity, Is My Measure.