Disappointments Are To The Soul What A

O'er Ocean, With A Thousand Masts, Sails Forth The Stripling Bold- One Boat, Hard Rescued From The Deep, Draws Into Port The Old!

The Painter Is, As To The Execution Of His Work, A Mechanic; But As To His Conception And Spirit And Design He Is Hardly Below Even The Poet.

Utility Is The Great Idol Of The Age, To Which All Powers Must Do Service And All Talents Swear Allegiance. In This Great Balance Of Utility, The Spiritual Service Of Art Has No Weight, And, Deprived Of All Encouragement, It Vanishes From The Noisy Vanity Fair Of Our Time.

He Cannot Complain Of A Hard Sentence, Who Is Made Master Of His Own Fate.

A Childlike Mind In Its Simplicity Practises That Science Of Good To Which The Wise May Be Blind.