The condition-of-England question is a practical one. The condition of England demands a hero, not a poet.

Write while the heat is in you.

As I stand over the insect crawling amid the pine needles on the forest floor, and endeavoring to conceal itself from my sight, and ask myself why it will cherish those humble thoughts, and hide its head from me who might, perhaps, be its benefactor, and impart to its race some cheering information, I am reminded of the greater Benefactor and Intelligence that stands over me the human insect.

New earths, new themes expect us.

On tops of mountains, as everywhere to hopeful souls, it is always morning.

Any fool can make a rule, and any fool will mind it.

If the condition of things which we were made for is not yet, what were any reality which we can substitute? We will not be shipwrecked on a vain reality.