But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.

Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil.

The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift, That no philosophy can lift.

Not Chaos, not the darkest pit of lowest Erebus, nor aught of blinder vacancy, scooped out by help of dreams - can breed such fear and awe as fall upon us often when we look into our Minds, into the Mind of Man.

O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in everything.

A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.

But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.