Poetry, Therefore, We Will Call Musical Thought.

Over The Times Thou Hast No Power. . . . Solely Over One Man Thou Hast Quite Absolute Power. Him Redeem And Make Honest.

Give Us, O Give Us The Man Who Sings At His Work! Be His Occupation What It May, He Is Equal To Any Of Those Who Follow The Same Pursuit In Silent Sullenness. He Will Do More In The Same Time . . . He Will Do It Better . . . He Will Persevere Longer. One Is Scarcely Sensible To Fatigue While He Marches To Music. The Very Stars Are Said To Make Harmony As They Revolve In Their Spheres.

It Is Well Said, In Every Sense, That A Man's Religion Is The Chief Fact With Regard To Him.

Blessed Is He Who Has Found His Work; Let Him Ask No Other Blessedness. He Has A Work, A Life-purpose... Get Your Happiness Out Of Your Work Or You Will Never Know What Real Happiness Is... Even In The Meanest Sorts Of Labour, The Whole Soul Of A Man Is Composed Into A Kind Of Real Harmony The Instant He Sets Himself To Work!

Thought, True Labor Of Any Kind, Highest Virtue Itself, Is It Not The Daughter Of Pain?