Vehemence Without Feeling Is But Rant.

Literature Is At Once The Cause And The Effect Of Social Progress. It Deepens Our Natural Sensibilities, And Strengthens By Exercise Our Intellectual Capacities. It Stores Up The Accumulated Experience Of The Race, Connecting Past And Present Into A Conscious Unity; And With This Store It Feeds Successive Generations, To Be Fed In Turn By Them.

The Artist Is Called A Creator.

The Discoverer And The Poet Are Inventors; And They Are So Because Their Mental Vision Detects The Unapparent, Unsuspected Facts, Almost As Vividly As Ocular Vision Rests On The Apparent And Familiar.

Our Native Susceptibilities And Acquired Tastes Determine Which Of The Many Qualities In An Object Shall Most Impress Us, And Be Most Clearly Recalled. One Man Remembers The Combustible Properties Of A Substance, Which To Another Is Memorable For Its Polarising Property; To One Man A Stream Is So Much Water-power, To Another A Rendezvous For Lovers.

The Only Cure For Grief Is Action.