Assassination Makes Only Martyrs, Not Converts.

Man Is Born Barbarous--he Is Ransomed From The Condition Of Beasts Only By Being Cultivated.

Poetry Is The Morning Dream Of Great Minds.

Thou Makest The Man, O Sorrow!--yes, The Whole Man,--as The Crucible Gold.

I Say To This Night: "pass More Slowly"; And The Dawn Will Come To Dispel The Night.

Time Is A Great Ocean Which, Like The Other Ocean, Overflows With Our Remains.