Too Often Do Reviewers Remind Us Of

The Word Book Acted As A Transient Stimulus

Out Of Association Grows Adhesion, And Out Of Adhesion Amalgamation.

I Believe While I Tremble; I Trust While I Weep.

A Waft Of Wind Came Sweeping Down The Laurel-walk, And Trembled Through The Boughs Of The Chestnut: It Wandered Away-away-to An Indefinite Distance-it Died. The Nightingale's Song Was Then The Only Voice Of The Hour: In Listening To It, I Again Wept.

A Beauty Neither Of Fine Colour Nor Long Eyelash, Nor Pencilled Brow, But Of Meaning, Of Movement, Of Radiance.