A Sight To Dream Of, Not To

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 Feel As If God Had, By Giving The Sabbath, Given Fifty-two Springs In Every Year.

A Savage Place! As Holy And Enchanted/as E'er Beneath The Waning Moon Was Haunted/by Woman Wailing For Her Demon Lover!

Real Pain Can Alone Cure Us Of Imaginary Ills. We Feel A Thousand Miseries Till We Are Lucky Enough To Feel Misery.

The Intelligible Forms Of Ancient Poets, The Fair Humanities Of Old Religion, The Power, The Beauty, And The Majesty That Had Their Haunts In Dale Or Piny Mountain, Or Forest By Slow Stream, Or Pebbly Spring, Or Chasms And Watery Depths, All These Have Vanished; They Live No Longer In The Faith Of Reason.