The reason for you complaint lies, it seems to me, in the constraint which your intellect imposes upon your imagination. Here I will make an observation, and illustrate it by an allegory. Apparently, it is not good-and indeed it hinders the creative work of the mind-if the if the intellect examines too closely the ideas pouring in, as it were, at the gates.

An honest man you may form of windle-straws, but to make a rogue you must have grist.

Time is a blooming field: nature is ever teeming with life: and all is seed, and all is fruit.

The average estimate themselves by what they do, the above average by what they are.

As inclination changes, thus ebbs and flows the unstable tide of public judgment.

A beautiful soul has no other merit than its own existence.

A childlike mind in its simplicity practises that science of good to which the wise may be blind.