The later rain,--it falls in anxious haste Upon the sun-dried fields and branches bare, Loosening with searching drops the rigid waste, As if it woul….

As long as man labors for a physical existence, though an act of necessity almost, he is yet natural; it is life, though that of this world, for whic….

We feel unsatisfied until we know ourselves akin even with that greatness which made the spots on which it rested hallowed; and until, by our own liv….

From the wrestling of his own soul with the great enemy, comes that depth and mystery which startles us in Hamlet..

Macbeth is contending with the realities of this world, Hamlet with those of the next..