There Is A Serene And Settled Majesty

Poetry Is Evidently A Contagious Complaint.

He Who Thinks Much Says But Little In Proportion To His Thoughts. He Selects That Language Which Will Convey His Ideas In The Most Explicit And Direct Manner. He Tries To Compress As Much Thought As Possible Into A Few Words. On The Contrary, The Man Who Talks Everlastingly And Promiscuously, Who Seems To Have An Exhaustless Magazine Of Sound, Crowds So Many Words Into His Thoughts That He Always Obscures, And Very Frequently Conceals Them.

There Is A Sacredness In Tears

After A Man Passes 60 , His Mischief Is Mainly In His Head

I Consider A Story Merely As A Frame On Which To Stretch My Materials.