A Falsehood Is, In One Sense, A

God! Sing, Ye Meadow-streams, With Gladsome Voice! Ye Pine-groves, With Your Soft And Soul-like Sounds! And They Too Have A Voice, You Piles Of Snow, And In Their Perilous Fall Shall Thunder, God!

The Intelligible Forms Of Ancient Poets, The Fair Humanities Of Old Religion, The Power, The Beauty, And The Majesty That Had Their Haunts In Dale Or Piny Mountain, Or Forest By Slow Stream, Or Pebbly Spring, Or Chasms And Watery Depths, All These Have Vanished; They Live No Longer In The Faith Of Reason.

I Have Seen Great Intolerance Shown In Support Of Tolerance.

All Men, Even The Most Surly Are Influenced By Affection.

The History Of Man For The Nine Months Preceding His Birth Would, Probably, Be Far More Interesting And Contain Events Of Greater Moment Than All The Three Score And Ten Years That Follow It.