All Nature Is The Temple; Earth The

Experience Is The Only Prophecy Of Wise Men.

Friendship, Sweet-resting Place Of The Soul, The Gloaming Wherein Our Hearts Find Peace.

But Nature Too, Shakes Off Her Sleep Today; By May's Mild Sun We See Reviv'd Her Frame, Around My Window Venus' Birds Proclaim, The Month Most Cherish'd Backwards Bends His Way!

Music Is The Literature Of The Heart; It Commences Where Speech Ends.

Every Time That A People Which Has Long Crouched In Slavery And Ignorance Is Moved To Its Lowest Depths There Appear Monsters And Heroes, Prodigies Of Crime And Prodigies Of Virtue.