The true genius shudders at incompleteness - and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be.

Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.

I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.

I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.

Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made.

It would be mockery to call such dreariness heaven at all.

There might be a class of beings, human once, but now to humanity invisible, for whose scrutiny, and for whose refined appreciation of the beautiful, more especially than for our own, had been set in order by God the great landscape-garden of the whole earth.