Music, among those who were styled the chosen people, was a religious art.

I have often thought, says Sir Roger, it happens very well that Christmas should fall out in the middle of Winter.

It is only imperfection that complains of what is imperfect. The more perfect we are the more gentle and quiet we become towards the defects of others.

It is impossible for us, who live in the latter ages of the world, to make observations in criticism, morality, or in any art or science, which have not been touched upon by others. We have little else left us but to represent the common sense of mankind in more strong, more beautiful, or more uncommon lights.

The Infusion of a China plant sweetened with the pith of an Indian Cane.

Music, among those who were styled the chosen people, was a religious art.

T is the Divinity that stirs within us.