All Truth Is Precious, If Not All

Solitude, Seeming A Sanctuary, Proves A Grave; A Sepulchre In Which The Living Lie, Where All Good Qualities Grow Sick And Die

Sends Nature Forth The Daughter Of The Skies... To Dance On Earth, And Charm All Human Eyes.

Heaven's Harmony Is Universal Love.

Just Knows, And Knows No More, Her Bible True,- A Truth The Brilliant Frenchman Never Knew.

I Will Venture To Assert, That A Just Translation Of Any Ancient Poet In Rhyme Is Impossible. No Human Ingenuity Can Be Equal To The Task Of Closing Every Couplet With Sounds Homotonous, Expressing At The Same Time The Full Sense, And Only The Full Sense Of His Original.