Leave the poor Some time for self-improvement. Let them not Be forced to grind the bones out of their arms For bread, but have some space to think and feel Like moral and immortal creatures.
Imagination is the air of mind.
Prayer is the spirit speaking truth to Truth.
Ah, nothing comes to us too soon but sorrow.
Blest is he whose heart is the home of the great dead and their great thoughts.
Stars which stand as thick as dewdrops on the field of heaven.