A Mother Is A Mother Still, The

Nature Never Deserts The Wise And Pure; No Plot So Narrow, Be But Nature There; No Waste So Vacant, But May Well Employ Each Faculty Of Sense, And Keep The Heart Awake To Love And Beauty.

What Is An Epigram? A Dwarfish Whole, Its Body Brevity, And Wit Its Soul.

That Willing Suspension Of Disbelief For The Moment, Which Constitutes Poetic Faith.

Therefore All Seasons Shall Be Sweet To Thee, Whether The Summer Clothe The General Earth With Greenness, Or The Redbreast Sit And Sing Betwixt The Tufts Of Snow On The Bare Branch Of Mossy Apple Tree.

...in Consequence Of The Film Of Familiarity And Selfish Solicitude, We Have Eyes Yet See Not, Ears That Hear Not, And Hearts That Neither Feel Nor Understand.