The People Fancy They Hate Poetry, And

The True Scholar Grudges Every Opportunity Of Action Passed, By, As A Loss Of Power.

Sooner Or Later That Which Is Now Life Shall Be Poetry, And Every Fair And Manly Trait Shall Add A Richer Strain To The Song.

Drive Out Nature With A Fork, She Comes Running Back.

Man Thinking Must Not Be Subdued By His Instruments. Books Are For The Scholar's Idle Times. When He Can Read God Directly, The Hour Is Too Precious To Be Wasted In Other Men's Transcripts Of Their Readings.

No Member Of A Crew Is Praised For The Rugged Individuality Of His Rowing.