Thought Precedes Action As Lighting Does Thunder.

A Fool May Talk, But A Wise Man Speaks.

Like A Great Poet, Nature Knows How To Produce The Greatest Effects With The Most Limited Means.

The Beauteous Eyes Of The Spring's Fair Night With Comfort Are Downward Gazing.

Perhaps Already I Am Dead, And These Perhaps Are Phantoms Vain; - These Motley Phantasies That Pass At Night Through My Disordered Brain. Perhaps With Ancient Heathen Shapes, Old Faded Gods, This Brain Is Full; Who, For Their Most Unholy Rites, Have Chosen A Dead Poet's Skull.

No Talent, But Yet A Character. [ger., Kein Talent, Doch Ein Charakter.]