Separate from the pleasure of your company, I don't much care if I never see another mountain in my life.

Damn the age. I'll write for antiquity.

Who first invented work, and bound the free And holiday-rejoicing spirit down . . . . To that dry drudgery at the desk's dead wood? . . . . Sabbathless Satan!

Shall I ask the brave soldier who fights by my side In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree?

While childhood, and while dreams, producing childhood, shall be left, imagination shall not have spread her holy wings totally to fly the earth.

Credulity is the man's weakness, but the child's strength.

'T is sweet to think that where'er we rove We are sure to find something blissful and dear; And that when we 're far from the lips we love, We 've but to make love to the lips we are near.