The South-wind brings Life, sunshine and desire, And on every mount and meadow Breathes aromatic fire; But over the dead he has no power, The lost, the lost, he cannot restore; And, looking over the hills, I mourn The darling who shall not return.

All history is a record of the power of minorities, and of minorities of one.

There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him to sleep.

Noblesse oblige; or, superior advantages bind you to larger generosity.

Painting was called silent poetry and poetry speaking painting.

My life is superficial, takes no root in the deep world; I ask, When shall I die, and be relieved of the responsibility of seeinga Universe which I do not use? I wish to exchange this flash-of-lightning faith for continuous daylight, this fever-glow for a benign climate.

They who talk much of destiny, their birth-star, etc., are in a lower dangerous plane, and invite the evils they fear.