’T is beauty calls, and glory shows the way

When Greeks joined Greeks, then was the tug of war.

Vows with so much passion, swears with so much grace, That ’t is a kind of heaven to be deluded by him.

Then he will talk—good gods! how he will talk!

Her neck is bared—the blow is struck—the soul has pass'd away; The bright—the beautiful—is now a bleeding piece of clay!— A solemn text! Go, think of it, in silence and alone, Then weigh against a grain of sand the glories of a throne!

There is poetry and there is beauty in real sympathy; but there is more—there is action. […] The noblest and most powerful form of sympathy is not merely the responsive tear, the echoed sigh, the answering look—it is the embodiment of the …

Good and beautiful things may easily be spoiled by suggestions of rights and duties