Nature Fits All Her Children With Something

O Thou, Whose Days Are Yet All Spring, Faith, Blighted Once, Is Past Retrieving; Experience Is A Dumb, Dead Thing; The Victory's In Believing.

This Imputation Of Inconsistency Is One To Which Every Sound Politician And Every Honest Thinker Must Sooner Or Later Subject Himself. The Foolish And The Dead Alone Never Change Their Opinion.

It Is Quite Too Common A Practice, Both In Readers And The More Superficial Class Of Critics, To Judge A Book By What It Is Not, A Matter Much Easier To Determine Than What It Is.

Reading Enables Us To See With The Keenest Eyes, To Hear With The Finest Ears, And Listen To The Sweetest Voices Of All Time.

Let Us Be Thankful That There Is No Court By Which We Can Be Excluded From Our Share In The Inheritance Of The Great Poets Of All Ages And Countries, To Which Our Simple Humanity Entitles Us.