Too Much I've Seen, And Felt, And

Man, It Seems, Is Not Able To Bear The Languid Rest On Nature's Bosom, And When The Trumpet Sounds The Signal Of Danger, He Hastens To Join His Comrades, No Matter What The Cause That Calls Him To Arms. He Rushes Into The Thickest Of The Fight, And Amid The Uproar Of The Battle Regains Confidence In Himself And His Powers.

There Is No Man More Complete Than The One Who Travelled A Lot, Who Changed The Shape Of His Thoughts And His Life Twenty Times.

The Death Of A Man's Wife Is Like Cutting Down An Ancient Oak That Has Long Shaded The Family Mansion. Henceforth The Glare Of The World, With Its Cares And Vicissitudes Falls Upon The Old Widower's Heart, And There Is Nothing To Break Their Force, Or Shield Him From The Full Weight Of Misfortune. It Is As If His Right Hand Were Withered; As If One Wing Of His Angel Was Broken, And Every Movement That He Made Brought Him To The Ground.

Thou Makest The Man, O Sorrow!--yes, The Whole Man,--as The Crucible Gold.

Poetry Is The Morning Dream Of Great Minds.