Searching Nature I Taste Self But At

It Is A Happy Thing That There Is No Royal Road To Poetry. The World Should Know By This Time That One Cannot Reach Parnassus Except By Flying Thither.

Look At The Stars! Look, Look Up At The Skies! Oh Look At All The Fire-folk Sitting In The Air! The Bright Boroughs, The Circle-citadels There!

I Consider My Selfbeing ... That Taste Of Myself, Of I And Me Above And In All Things, Which Is More Distinctive Than The Taste Of Ale Or Alum, More Distinctive Than The Smell Of Walnutleaf Or Camphor, And Is Incommunicable By Any Means To Another Man.

The World Is Charged With The Grandeur Of God.

I Am Surprised You Shd. Say Fancy And Aesthetic Tastes Have Led Me To My Present State Of Mind: These Wd. Be Better Satisfied In The Church Of England, For Bad Taste Is Always Meeting One In The Accessories Of Catholicism.