Oh Sleep! It Is A Gentle Thing,

I Must Lay Down The Law As I Understand It, And As I Read It In Books Of Authority.

Conscience Is The Pulse Of Reason

The Once Red Leaf, The Last Of Its Clan, That Dances As Often As Dance It Can.

No Man Was Ever Yet A Great Poet, Without Being At The Same Time A Profound Philosopher. For Poetry Is The Blossom And The Fragrance Of All Human Knowledge, Human Thoughts, Human Passions, Emotions, Language.

Nature Is A Wary Wily Long-breathed Old Witch, Tough-lived As A Turtle And Divisible As The Polyp, Repullulative In A Thousand Snips And Cuttings, Integra Et In Toto! She Is Sure To Get The Better Of Lady Mind In The Long Run, And To Take Her Revenge Too Transforms Our To Day Into A Canvass Dead-colored To Receive The Dull Featureless Portait Of Yesterday.