I have no name: I am but two days old. What shall I call thee? I happy am, Joy is my name. Sweet joy befall thee!
How can the bird that is born for joy, sit in a cage and sing.
Hear the voice of the Bard! Who Present, Past, and Future, sees, whose ears have heard, the Holy Word, that walked among the ancient trees.
He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.
He who would do good to another must do it in Minute Particulars: General Good is the plea of the scoundrel, hypocrite and flatterer, For Art and Science cannot exist but in minutely organized Particulars.
He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.
Half Friendship is the bitterest Enmity.
Futurity is before me Like a dark lamp.
For when our souls have learned the heat to bear, the cloud will vanish, we shall hear his voice.
For every thing exists and not one sigh nor smile nor tear, one hair nor particle of dust, not one can pass away.
For a Tear is an Intellectual thing, and a Sigh is the Sword of an Angel King, and the bitter groan of a Martyr’s woe Is an Arrow from the Almightie’s Bow.
Exuberance is Beauty.