Genius does not need a special language; it uses newly whatever tongue it finds.
Edmund Clarence Stedman
Worth, courage, honor, these indeed Your sustenance and birthright are.
honor worth age courage
Fashion is a potency in art, making it hard to judge between the temporary and the lasting
art fashion judge hard
Yes, there's a luck in most things; and in none more than being born at the right time
luck time things born
Poetry is an art, and chief of the fine art; the easiest to dabble in, the hardest in which to reach true excellence
poetry art true excellence
Give me to die unwitting of the day, And stricken in Life's brave heat, with senses clear!
life
The year of jubilee has come; Gather the gifts of Earth with equal hand; Henceforth ye too may share the birthright soil, The corn, the wine, and all the harvest-home.
gifts home
O child! Dear child! Above the clouds I lift my wing To hear the bells of Heaven ring; Some of their music, though my flights be wild, To Earth I bring; Then let me soar and sing!
music
Hopeless of all he dared to hope so long, The music born within him dies away; Even the song he loved becomes a pain, Full-freighted with a yearning all in vain.
pain music
I loved: and in the morning sky, A magic castle upward grew!
magic
Faith and joy are the ascensive forces of song.
song joy singing
special use tongue
Above the clouds I lift my wing To hear the bells of Heaven ring; Some of their music, though my fights be wild, To Earth I bring; Then let me soar and sing!
fighting clouds wings
Yes, there's a luck in most things; and in none more than being born at the right time.
luck born right time
Progress comes by experiment, and this from ennui that leads to voyages, wars, revolutions, and plainly to change in the arts of expression; that cries out to the imagination, and is the nurse of the invention whereof we term necessity the mother.
mother art war
No clouds are in the morning sky, The vapors hug the stream, Who says that life and love can die In all this northern gleam? At every turn the maples burn, The quail is whistling free, The partridge whirs, and the frosted burs Are dropping for you and me. Ho! hillyho! heigh O! Hillyho! In the clear October morning.
morning life and love sky
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