I Am Sure From My Experience Of

O Let Me Be Awake, My God! Or Let Me Sleep Alway.

Joy Is The Sweet Voice, Joy The Luminous Cloud. We In Ourselves Rejoice! And Thence Flows All That Charms Or Ear Or Sight, All Melodies The Echoes Of That Voice, All Colours A Suffusion From That Light.

A Mother Is A Mother Still, The Holiest Thing Alive.

Reviewers Are Usually People Who Would Have Been, Poets, Historians, Biographer, If They Could. They Have Tried Their Talents At One Thing Or Another And Have Failed; Therefore They Turn Critic.

I Have Often Been Surprised That Mathematics, The Quintessence Of Truth, Should Have Found Admirers So Few And So Languid. Frequent Consideration And Minute Scrutiny Have At Length Unravelled The Cause: Viz . That Though Reason Is Feasted, Imagination Is Starved; Whilst Reason Is Luxuriating In Its Proper Paradise, Imagination Is Wearily Travelling On A Dreary Desert.