Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Onward and sublime Will ever glide The silent stream of Time, That bears us on its tide.
O Innocence, with laughing eyes! Thou art a cherub from the skies, A wanderer from heaven.
It rolls in grandeur lone-- The stream of Time; And on its shores lie strown The wrecks of every clime.
Nature declares herself in her works. What exists beyond her domain, if anything, becomes necessarily a matter of faith or imagination.