Laughter Ispleasant, Butthe Exertion Istoomuchfor Me.

The Highest Wisdom And The Highest Genius Have Been Invariably Accompanied With Cheerfulness. We Have Sufficient Proofs On Record That Shakespeare And Socrates Were The Most Festive Companions.

My Quarrel With Him Is, That His Works Contain Nothing Worth Quoting; And A Book That Furnishes No Quotations, Is Me Judice, No Book,—it Is A Plaything.

But Though First Love's Impassioned Blindness Has Passed Away In Colder Light, I Still Have Thought Of You With Kindness, And Shall Do, Till Our Last Goodnight. The Ever-rolling Silent Hours Will Bring A Time We Shall Not Know, When Our Young Days Of Gathering Flowers Will Be An Hundred Years Ago.

They Have Poisoned The Thames And Killed The Fish In The River. A Little Further Development Of The Same Wisdom And Science Will Complete The Poisoning Of The Air, And Kill The Dwellers On The Banks. I Almost Think It Is The Destiny Of Science To Exterminate The Human Race.

The Truth, I Am Convinced, Is That There Is No Longer A Poetical Audience Among The Higher Class Of Minds, That Moral, Political, And Physical Science Have Entirely Withdrawn From Poetry The Attention Of All Whose Attention Is Worth Having; And That The Poetical Reading Public Being Composed Of The Mere Dregs Of The Intellectual Community, The Most Sufficing Passport To Their Favour Must Rest On The Mixture Of A Little Easily-intelligible Portion Of Mawkish Sentiment With An Absolute Negation Of Reason And Knowledge.