But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.

The best prophet of the future is the past.

Men freely believe that which they wish to be the truth.

When we think we lead we are most led.

This is the patent age of new inventions/ For killing bodies, and saving souls,/ All propagated with the best of intentions.

Yes, Love indeed is light from heaven; A spark of that immortal fire With angels shared, by Allah given To lift from earth our low desire.

Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away; A single laugh demolished the right arm Of his country.

There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more.

She walks in beauty like the night.