The True Poet Is A Friendly Man.

Ambition Is So Powerful A Passion In The Human Breast, That However High We Reach We Are Never Satisfied.

In Old Age Our Bodies Are Worn-out Instruments, On Which The Soul Tries In Vain To Play The Melodies Of Youth. But Because The Instrument Has Lost Its Strings, Or Is Out Of Tune, It Does Not Follow That The Musician Has Lost His Skill.

For Bells Are The Voice Of The Church; They Have Tones That Touch And Search The Hearts Of Young And Old.

Love Is A Bodily Shape; And Christian Works Are No More Than Animate Faith And Love, As Flowers Are The Animate Springtide.

So Nature Deals With Us, And Takes Away Our Playthings One By One, And By The Hand Leads Us To Rest.