An Enlightened Mind Is Not Hoodwinked; It

These Stars Of Earth, These Golden Flowers.

Nothing With God Can Be Accidental.

An Enlightened Mind Is Not Hoodwinked; It Is Not Shut Up In A Gloomy Prison Till It Thinks The Walls Of Its Dungeon The Limits Of The Universe, And The Reach Of Its Own Chain The Outer Verge Of Intelligence.

How Can I Tell The Signals And The Signs By Which One Heart Another Heart Divines? How Can I Tell The Many Thousand Ways By Which It Keeps The Secret It Betrays?

Doubtless Criticism Was Originally Benignant, Pointing Out The Beauties Of A Work Rather That Its Defects. The Passions Of Men Have Made It Malignant, As A Bad Heart Of Procreates Turned The Bed, The Symbol Of Repose, Into An Instrument Of Torture.