He Made All Countries Where He Came

Music Is Inarticulate Poesy.

The Blushing Beauties Of A Modest Maid.

What Judgment I Had Increases Rather Than Diminishes; And Thoughts, Such As They Are, Come Crowding In So Fast Upon Me, That My Only Difficulty Is To Choose Or Reject; To Run Them Into Verse Or To Give Them The Other Harmony Of Prose.

Confidence Is The Feeling We Have Before Knowing All The Facts

As One That Neither Seeks, Nor Shuns His Foe.