Figs rot; but oh! the Truthful is eternal.

I was born, lady, to grapple with the Lofty and the Ideal.

My soul yearns for the Visionary.

I stand behind the counter, it is true; but I ponder here upon the deeds of heroes, and muse over the thoughts of sages.

What is grocery for one who has ambition?
What sweetness hath Muscovada to him who hath tasted of Poesy?
The Ideal, lady, I often think, is the true Real, and the Actual, but a visionary hallucination.