Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

We live and move and think; but we are not the creators of our own origin and existence. We are not the arbiters of every motion of our own complicated nature; we are not the masters of our own imaginations and moods of mental being.

I consider poetry very subordinate to moral and political science.

Of Planets, struggling fierce towards heaven's free wilderness.

Fame, power, and gold, are loved for their own sakes - are worshipped with a blind, habitual idolatry.

The same means that have supported every other popular belief have supported Christianity. War, imprisonment, and falsehood; deeds of unexampled and incomparable atrocity have made it what it is.

It is found easier, by the short-sighted victims of disease, to palliate their torments by medicine, than to prevent them by regimen