The art of art... is simplicity.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, But I shall be good health to you nevertheless, And filter and fibre your blood. Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you.

I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of a man.

Are you the new person drawn toward me? To begin with, take warning, I am surely far different from what you suppose.

Strange, (is it not?) that battles, martyrs, blood, even assassination should so condense - perhaps only really lastingly condense - a Nationality.

Man is about the same, in the main, whether with despotism, or whether with freedom.

And I or you pocketless of a dime, may purchase the pick of the earth.