Man Who Man Would Be, Must Rule

Poetry Is A Mirror Which Makes Beautiful That Which Is Distorted.

He Hath Awakened From The Dream Of Life.

I Have Been A Wanderer Among Distant Fields. I Have Sailed Down Mighty Rivers.

In Proportion As A Man Is Selfish, So Far Has He Receded From The Motive Which Constitutes Virtue.

There Is No Real Wealth But The Labour Of Man.