The Human Voice Is The Organ Of

Men Of Genius Are Often Dull And Inert In Society; As The Blazing Meteor, When It Descends To Earth, Is Only A Stone.

My Book And Heart Shall Never Part.

Then Followed That Beautiful Season... Summer.... Filled Was The Air With A Dreamy And Magical Light; And The Landscape Lay As If New Created In All The Freshness Of Childhood.

How Can I Tell The Signals And The Signs By Which One Heart Another Heart Divines? How Can I Tell The Many Thousand Ways By Which It Keeps The Secret It Betrays?

How In The Turmoil Of Life Can Love Stand, Where There Is Not One Heart, And One Mouth And One Hand.