Have Hope. Though clouds environs now, And gladness hides her face in scorn, Put thou the shadow from thy brow, - No night but hath its morn.
Toil of science swells the wealth of art.
Every man stamps his value on himself... man is made great or small by his own will.
All things must; man is the only creature that wills.
O jealousy! thou magnifier of trifles.
In the case of a creative mind, it seems to me, the intellect has withdrawn its watchers from the gates, and the ideas rush in pell-mell and only then does it review and inspect the multitudes.