Habit With It's Iron Sinews, Clasps Us

I Love The People Because I Believe In God. For, If I Did Not Believe In God, What Would The People Be To Me? I Should Enjoy At Ease That Lucky Throw Of The Dice, Which Chance Had Turned Up For Me, The Day Of My Birth; And, With A Secret, Savage Joy, I Should Say, "so Much The Worse For The Losers!--the World Is A Lottery. Woe To The Conquered!

Kindness Is Virtue Itself.

Yet, In These Autumn Days When Nature Expires, Here, In These Veiled Scenes, I Find More Attractions; It Is A Friend's Sad Goodbye; It Is The Last Smile From Lips That Death Is Going To Close Forever!

Sentiment Is The Poetry Of The Imagination.

An Artist Should Have More Than Two Eyes.