Sculpture And Painting Are Moments Of Life;

I Have Since Written What No Tide Shall Ever Wash Away, What Men Unborn Shall Read O'er Ocean Wide And Find Ianthe's Name Agen.

Truth Sometimes Corner Unawares Upon Caution, And Sometimes Speaks In Public As Unconsciously As In A Dream.

To My Ninth Decade I Have Totter'd On, And No Soft Arm Bends Now My Steps To Steady; She, Who Once Led Me Where She Would, Is Gone, So When He Calls Me, Death Shall Find Me Ready.

Music Is God's Gift To Man, The Only Art Of Heaven Given To Earth, The Only Art Of Earth We Take To Heaven.

Dignity, In Private Men And In Governments, Has Been Little Else Than A Stately And Stiff Perseverance In Oppression; And Spirit, As It Is Called, Little Else Than The Foam Of Hard-mouthed Insolence.