It will be found, in fact, that the ingenious are always fanciful, and the truly imaginative never otherwise than analytic.

I would define, in brief, the Poetry of words as the Rhythmical Creation of Beauty. Its sole arbiter is taste. With the intellect or with the conscience, it has only collateral relations. Unless incidentally, it has no concern whatever either with duty or with truth.

If we cannot comprehend God in his visible works, how then in his inconceivable thoughts, that call the works into being?

The most 'popular,' the most 'successful' writers among us (for a brief period, at least) are, 99 times out of a hundred, persons of mere effrontery-in a word, busy-bodies, toadies, quacks.

For my own part, I have never had a thought which I could not set down in words, with even more distinctness than that with which I conceived it.

There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion.

Philosophers have often held dispute As to the seat of thought in man and brute For that the power of thought attends the latter My friend, thy beau, hath made a settled matter, And spite of dogmas current in all ages, One settled fact is better than ten sages. (O,Tempora! O,Mores!)