The mind is fearless so long as there is no reproach of conscience. When that comes, come breakage and bondage and a host of terrors.
Shelley was all fire and air. His eye had perpetually the fixed light of a day-dreamer's. There is a marked resemblance between the portrait of him taken at Rome in 1819, by Miss Curran, and that of Sir Philip Sidney, engraved from the original and prefixed to Grosart's edition,—a resemblance not astonishing save to those unacquainted with both mild and "heroick spirits."
It seems a little difficult to discern clearly the happiness or misery of those very near to us in affection. Souls have their perspective, and need to be removed from the eye, that it may scan them justly.
Sickness is such a humiliation that some cannot survive its first infliction.
We try hard to cure superstition, which has been defined as the surplus of faith, the mere foam and scum of what is valuable. Over-confidence and enthusiasm, which are in the same degree the excess of hope and love, we do not try to cure at all.