It is when we think we lead that we are most led.

Alas! how deeply painful is all payment!

Tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue By female lips and eyes--that is, I mean, When both the teacher and the taught are young, As was the case, at least, where I have been; They smile so when one's right; and when one's wrong They smile still more.

This sort of adoration of the real is but a heightening of the beau ideal.

Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it.

Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.

The dome of thought, the palace of the soul.