Great Is Not Great To The Greater.

Give Tribute, But Not Oblation, To Human Wisdom.

Ring Out Your Bells! Let Mourning Show Be Spread! For Love Is Dead.

What Is Mine, Even To My Life, Is Hers I Love; But The Secret Of My Friend Is Not Mine!

But Words Came Halting Forth, Wanting Invention's Stay; Invention, Nature's Child, Fled Stepdame Study's Blows; And Others' Feet Still Seemed But Strangers In My Way. Thus, Great With Child To Speak, And Helpless In My Throes, Biting My Truant Pen, Beating Myself For Spite: "fool," Said My Muse To Me, "look In Thy Heart, And Write.

Every Base Occupation Makes One Sharp In Its Practice, And Dull In Every Other.