Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music; there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society.
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"The eye—it cannot choose but see; We cannot bid the ear be still; Our bodies feel, where'er they be, Against or with our will."
"The Gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul."
"Nature never did betray The heart that loved her."
"The objects of the Poet are the things of common life."
"And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes."
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