Poetry Being ... When We Look From

The Englishman Who Has Lost His Fortune Is Said To Have Died Of A Broken Heart.

The True Ship Is The Ship Builder.

If It Costs Ten Years, And Ten To Recover The General Prosperity, The Destruction Of The South Is Worth So Much.

No Change Of Circumstances Can Repair A Defect Of Character.

Come, See The North-wind's Masonry, Out Of An Unseen Quarry Evermore Furnished With Tile, The Fierce Artificer Curves His White Bastions With Projected Roof Round Every Windward Stake, Or Tree, Or Door. Speeding, The Myriad-handed, His Wild Work So Fanciful, So Savage, Naught Cares He For Number Or Proportion.