Love Will Find A Way Through Paths

How Sweet And Soothing Is This Hour Of Calm! I Thank Thee, Night! For Thou Has Chased Away These Horrid Bodements Which, Amidst The Throng, I Could Not Dissipate; And With The Blessing Of Thy Benign And Quiet Influence Now Will I To My Couch, Although To Rest Is Almost Wronging Such A Night As This.

This Sort Of Adoration Of The Real Is But A Heightening Of The Beau Ideal.

Ye Stars! Which Are The Poetry Of Heaven!

He Learned The Arts Of Riding, Fencing, Gunnery, And How To Scale A Fortress - Or A Nunnery.

For Truth Is Always Strange; Stranger Than Fiction.