Normally, The Sciences Distance Themselves From Life

Few Rash Of Any Modern Nation Have A Proper Sense Of An Aesthetical Whole; They Praise And Blame By Parts; They Are Charmed By Passages. And Who Has Greater Reason To Rejoice In This Than Actors, Since The Stage Is Ever But A Patched And Piecemeal Matter?

For Precisely When Concepts Fail One, Words Are Found At The Right Time.

Shakespeare Is A Great Psychologist, And Whatever Can Be Known Of The Heart Of Man May Be Found In His Plays.

How Fair Doth Nature Appear Again! How Bright The Sunbeams! How Smiles The Plain! The Flow'rs Are Bursting From Ev'ry Bough, And Thousand Voices Each Bush Yields Now. And Joy And Gladness Fill Ev'ry Breast! Oh Earth!-oh Sunlight! Oh Rapture Blest! Oh Love! Oh Loved One!

Pain And Pleasure, Good And Evil, Come To Us From Unexpected Sources. It Is Not There Where We Have Gathered Up Our Brightest Hopes, That The Dawn Of Happiness Breaks. It Is Not There Where We Have Glanced Our Eye With Affright, That We Find The Deadliest Gloom. What Should This Teach Us? To Bow To The Great And Only Source Of Light, And Live Humbly And With Confiding Resignation.