No pictorial or sculptural combinations of points of human loveliness, do more than approach the living and breathing human beauty as it gladdens our daily path.

It is the curse of a certain order of mind, that it can never rest satisfied with the consciousness of its ability to do a thing.Still less is it content with doing it. It must both know and show how it was done.

Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors ... on account of the hideousness of mysteries which will not suffer themselves to be revealed.

The true genius shudders at incompleteness - and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be.

...for her whom in life thou dids't abhor, in death thou shalt adore

A poem deserves its title only inasmuch as it excites, by elevating the soul.

-ev'n with us the breath Of Science dims the mirror of our joy.