Love Is Blind; Couch Not His Eyes.

Science Is Not Addressed To Poets.

A Man May Be Variously Accomplished, And Yet Be A Feeble Poet.

The Magic Of The Pen Lies In The Concentration Of Your Thoughts Upon One Object.

Whatever You Believe To Be True And False, That Proclaim To Be True And False; Whatever You Think Admirable And Beautiful, That Should Be Your Model, Even If All Your Friends And All The Critics Storm At You As A Crotchet-monger And An Eccentric.

Imagination Is Not The Exclusive Appanage Of Artists, But Belongs In Varying Degrees To All Men.