As I gaze upon the sea! All the old romantic legends, all my dreams, come back to me.

What is time? The shadow on the dial, the striking of the clock, the running of the sand, day and night, summer and winter, months, years, centuries-these are but arbitrary and outward signs, the measure of Time, not Time itself. Time is the Life of the Soul.

I will be a man among men; and no longer a dreamer among shadows.

As to the pure mind all things are pure, so to the poetic mind all things are poetical.

The twilight that surrounds the border-land of old romance.

O suffering, sad humanity! O ye afflicted ones, who lie Steeped to the lips in misery, Longing, yet afraid to die, Patient, though sorely tried!

The heart, like the mind, has a memory. And in it are kept the most precious keepsakes.