Father Of Light! Great God Of Heaven!

Think'st Thou Existence Doth Depend On Time? It Doth; But Actions Are Our Epochs.

Our Life Is Two Fold Sleep Hath Its Own World, A Boundary Between The Things Misnamed Death And Existence Sleep Hath Its Own World, And A Wide Realm Of Wild Reality.

Man Is In Part Divine, A Troubled Stream From A Pure Source.

I Have No Consistency, Except In Politics; And That Probably Arises From My Indifference To The Subject Altogether.

From The Mingled Strength Of Shade And Light A New Creation Rises To My Sight, Such Heav'nly Figures From His Pencil Flow, So Warm With Light His Blended Colors Glow. . . . . The Glowing Portraits, Fresh From Life, That Bring Home To Our Hearts The Truth From Which They Spring.