Romanticism has never been properly judged. Who was there to judge it? The critics!

It was the voice of mad seas, roaring immense,/ That shattered your infant breast, too soft, too human.

The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses

Stronger than alcohol, vaster than poetry, Ferment the freckled red bitterness of love!

I am alone in possessing a key to this barbarous sideshow.

Morality is the weakness of the mind.

I found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul.