To Those Who Know Thee Not, No

We Live In An Age Which Must Be Amused, Though Genius, Feeling, Trust, And Principle Be The Sacrifice.

The Wretch Who Digs The Mine For Bread, Or Ploughs, That Others May Be Fed, Feels Less Fatigued Than That Decreed To Him Who Cannot Think Or Read.

Sensibility Appears To Me To Be Neither Good Nor Evil In Itself, But In Its Application. Under The Influence Of Christian Principle, It Makes Saints And Martyrs; Ill-directed, Or Uncontrolled, It Is A Snare, And The Source Of Every Temptation; Besides, As People Cannot Get It If It Is Not Given Them, To Descant On It Seems To Me As Idle As To Recommend People To Have Black Eyes Or Fair Complexions.

Where Evil May Be Done, It Is Right To Ponder; Where Only Suffered, Know The Shortest Pause Is Much Too Long.

Imagination Frames Events Unknown, In Wild, Fantastic Shapes Of Hideous Ruin, And What It Fears Creates.