Poetry is the mysticism of mankind.
He who cannot exaggerate is not qualified to utter truth.
The young pines springing up in the corn-fields from year to year are to me a refreshing fact.
The experience of every past moment but belies the faith of each present.
In a thousand apparently humble ways men busy themselves to make some right take the place of some wrong,--if it is only to make abetter paste blacking,--and they are themselves so much the better morally for it.
Let the beautiful laws prevail. Let us not weary ourselves by resisting them.