I was cautious in what I said before the young lady; for I could not be sure that she was sane; and, in fact, there was a certain restless brilliancy about her eyes that half led me to imagine she was not.

Every poem should remind the reader that they are going to die.

A poem in my opinion, is opposed to a work of science by having for its immediate object, pleasure, not truth.

Years of love have been forgot, In the hatred of a minute.

...If you do not take it up with you in some way, I shall be under the necessity of breaking your head with this shovel

That is another of your odd notions," said the Prefect, who had a fashion of calling every thing "odd" that was beyond his comprehension, and thus lived amid an absolute legion of "oddities.

In the Heaven's above, the angels, whispering to one another, can find, among their burning terms of love, none so devotional as that of 'Mother.