Father of Light! great God of Heaven! Hear'st thou the accents of despair? Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven? Can vice atone for crimes by prayer.

We have fools in all sects, and impostors in most; why should I believe mysteries no one can understand, because written by men who chose to mistake madness for inspiration and style themselves Evangelicals?

To withdraw myself from myself has ever been my sole, my entire, my sincere motive in scribbling at all.

Let none think to fly the danger for soon or late love is his own avenger.

Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?

Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave.

There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.