Even The Eternal Skies Weep, I Thought;

I Ought To Be Thy Adam, But I Am Rather The Fallen Angel.

His Conversation Was Marked By Its Happy Abundance.

It Is True, We Shall Be Monsters, Cut Off From All The World; But On That Account We Shall Be More Attached To One Another.

The Labours Of Men Of Genius, However Erroneously Directed, Scarcely Ever Fail In Ultimately Turning To The Solid Advantage Of Mankind.

Poetry, And The Principle Of Self, Of Which Money Is The Visible Incarnation, Are The God And The Mammon Of The World.