The Blue And Bright-eyed Floweret Of The

Reviewers Are Usually People Who Would Have Been, Poets, Historians, Biographer, If They Could. They Have Tried Their Talents At One Thing Or Another And Have Failed; Therefore They Turn Critic.

The Sense Of Beauty Is Intuitive, And Beauty Itself Is All That Inspires Pleasure Without, And Aloof From, And Even Contrarily To Interest.

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.

Novels Are To Love As Fairy Tales To Dreams.

And To Be Wroth With One We Love…doth Work Like Madness In The Brain.