The great object of life is Sensation - to feel that we exist - even though in pain - it is this "craving void" which drives us to gaming - to battle - to travel - to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment.

There is pleasure in the pathless woods.

Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister

I came to realize clearly that the mind is no other than the Mountain and the Rivers and the great wide Earth, the Sun and the Moon and the Sky”.

Who tracks the steps of glory to the grave?

For through the South the custom still commands The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands.

No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.