Happy Art Thou, As If Every Day

The Air Of Summer Was Sweeter Than Wine.

How Like They Are To Human Things!

Work Is My Recreation, The Play Of Faculty; A Delight Like That Which A Bird Feels In Flying, Or A Fish In Darting Through The Water,--nothing More.

It Is The Heart And Not The Brain, That To The Highest Doth Attain.

The Natural Alone Is Permanent.