The popularity of that baby-faced boy, who possessed not even the elements of a good actor, was a hallucination in the public mind, and a disgrace to our theatrical history.

The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began, Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.

Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of the day, spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay.

To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.

The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!

For there no yew nor cypress spread their glom But roses blossom'd each rustic tomb.

The only thing that is fundamental (real) is consciousness itself; all else is virtual- i.e., a result of an exchange of information within consciousness.