Religion and art spring from the same root and are close kin. Economics and art are strangers.

What is the voice of song when the world lacks the ear of taste?

Masculine observers, if the birth-mark did not heighten their admiration, contented themselves with wishing it away, that the world might possess one living specimen of ideal loveliness, without the semblance of a flaw.

A man--poet, prophet, or whatever be may be--readily persuades himself of his right to all the worship that is voluntarily tendered.

It was a day in early spring; and as that sweet, genial time of year and atmosphere calls out tender greenness from the ground,--beautiful flowers, or leaves that look beautiful because so long unseen under the snow and decay,--so the pleasant air and warmth had called out three young people, who sat on a sunny hill-side enjoying the warm day and one another.

What a happy and holy fashion it is that those who love one another should rest on the same pillow.

And there I sat, long long ago, waiting for the world to know me.