The Mind Is An Enchanting Thing.

The Mind Is An Enchanting Thing Is An Enchanted Thing, Like The Glaze On A Katydid-wing Subdivided By Sun Till The Nettings Are Legion.

Maine Should Be Pleased That Its Animal Is Not A Waverer, And Rather Than Fight, Lets The Primed Quill Fall. Shallow Oppressor, Intruder, Insister, You Have Found A Resister.

The Prey Of Fear, He, Always Curtailed, Extinguished, Thwarted By The Dusk, Work Partly Done, Says To The Alternating Blaze, "again The Sun! Anew Each Day; And New And New And New, That Comes Into And Steadies My Soul."

It Is Human Nature To Stand In The Middle Of A Thing.

One Detects Creative Power By Its Capacity To Conquer One's Detachment.