From The Moment Fear Begins I Have

Sorrows Must Die With The Joys They Outnumber.

The Voice Of Our Age Seems By No Means Favorable To Art, At All Events To That Kind Of Art To Which My Inquiry Is Directed. The Course Of Events Has Given A Direction To The Genius Of The Time That Threatens To Remove It Continually Further From The Ideal Of Art. For Art Has To Leave Reality, It Has To Raise Itself Bodily Above Necessity And Neediness; For Art Is The Daughter Of Freedom, And It Requires Its Prescriptions And Rules To Be Furnished By The Necessity Of Spirits And Not By That Of Matter.

It Is Often Wise To Reveal That Which Cannot Be Concealed For Long.

Wise To Resolve, Patient To Perform.

On Dreary Night Let Lusty Sunshine Fall.