Great God! I'd rather be a Pagan.

Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty; more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.

That inward eye/ Which is the bliss of solitude.

Milton, thou should'st be living at this hour.

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.

I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.

In modern business it is not the crook who is to be feared most, it is the honest man who doesn't know what he is doing.