The poet sees things as they look. Is this having a faculty the less? or a sense the more?

I was surprised just now at seeing a cobweb around a knocker; for it was not on the door of heaven.

Many men spend their lives in gazing at their own shadows, and so dwindle away into shadows thereof.

In the moment of our creation we receive the stamp of our individuality; and much of life is spent in rubbing off or defacing the impression.

When we skim along the surface of history we see little but the rough barren rocks that rise out of it.

Friendship is Love with jewels on, but without either flowers or veil.

Forms and regularity of proceeding, if they are not justice, partake much of the nature of justice, which, in its highest sense, is the spirit of distributive order.