We look before and after, And pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

Their errors have been weighed and found to have been dust in the balance; if their sins were as scarlet, they are now white as snow: they have been washed in the blood of the mediator and the redeemer, Time.

We look before and after, And pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.

Tragedy delights by affording a shadow of the pleasure which exists in pain.

Jesus Christ opposed with earnest eloquence the panic fears and hateful superstitions which have enslaved mankind for ages.

...Ere midnight’s frown and morning’s smile, ere thou and peace may meet.