Manners Make The Fortune Of The Ambitious

For It Is Not Metres, But A Metre-making Argument That Makes A Poem.

Beauty Is The Pilot Of The Young Soul.

Nothing Divine Dies. All Good Is Eternally Reproductive. The Beauty Of Nature Re-forms Itself In The Mind, And Not For Barren Contemplation, But For New Creation.

We Lie In The Lap Of Immense Intelligence.

What Would Be The Use Of Immortality To A Person Who Cannot Use Well A Half An Hour?