The True Genius Shudders At Incompleteness.

Science Has Not Yet Taught Us If Madness Is Or Is Not The Sublimity Of The Intelligence.

We Now Demand The Light Artillery Of The Intellect; We Need The Curt, The Condensed, The Pointed, The Readily Diffused -- In Place Of The Verbose, The Detailed, The Voluminous, The Inaccessible.

To Elevate The Soul, Poetry Is Necessary.

He Is, As You Say, A Remarkable Horse, A Prodigious Horse, Although As You Very Justly Observe, A Suspicious And Untractable Character.

Man's Real Life Is Happy, Chiefly Because He Is Ever Expecting That It Soon Will Be So.