By Nature We Have No Defect That

The Greatest Joy Of A Thinking Man Is To Have Searched The Explored And To Quietly Revere The Unexplored.

What Makes Poetry? A Full Heart, Brimful Of One Noble Passion.

If You Inquire What People Are Like Here, I Must Answer, "the Same As Everywhere."

The Greatest Evil That Can Befall Man Is That He Should Come To Think Ill Of Himself.

So Then The Year Is Repeating Its Old Story Again. We Are Come Once More, Thank God! To Its Most Charming Chapter. The Violets And The Mayflowers Are As Its Inscriptions Or Vignettes. It Always Makes A Pleasant Impression On Us, When We Open Again At These Pages Of The Book Of Life.