The Mind Is An Enchanting Thing.

The Irish Say Your Trouble Is Their Trouble And Your Joy Their Joy? I Wish I Could Believe It; I Am Troubled, I'm Dissatisfied, I'm Irish.

Beauty Is Everlasting And Dust Is For A Time.

When One Cannot Appraise Out Of One's Own Experience, The Temptation To Blunder Is Minimized, But Even When One Can, Appraisal Seems Chiefly Useful As Appraisal Of The Appraiser.

Not Till The Poets Among Us Can Be "literalists Of The Imagination"-above Insolence And Triviality And Can Present For Inspection, "imaginary Gardens With Real Toads In Them." Shall We Have It.

There Never Was A War That Was Not Inward; I Must Fight Till I Have Conquered In Myself What Causes War.