To Be Beloved Is All I Need,

An Instinctive Taste Teaches Men To Build Their Churches With Spire Steeples Which Point As With A Silent Finger To The Sky And Stars.

The Secondary Imagination I Consider As An Echo Of The Former, Co-existing With The Conscious Will, Yet Still As Identical With The Primary In The Kind Of Its Agency, And Differing Only In Degree, And In The Mode Of Its Operation. It Dissolves, Diffuses, Dissipates, In Order To Recreate: Or Where This Process Is Rendered Impossible, Yet Still At All Events It Struggles To Idealize And To Unify. It Is Essentially Vital, Even As All Objects (as Objects) Are Essentially Fixed And Dead.

A People Are Free In Proportion As They Form Their Own Opinions.

Language Is The Armory Of The Human Mind, And At Once Contains The Trophies Of Its Past And The Weapons Of Its Future Conquests.

The Rules Of Prudence, Like The Laws Of The Stone Tables, Are For The Most Part Prohibitive. "thou Shalt Not" Is Their Characteristic Formula.