If you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.

Indeed, there is an eloquence in true enthusiasm that is not to be doubted.

You call it hope-that fire of fire! It is but agony of desire.

Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem.

By a route obscure and lonely Haunted by ill angels only, Where an eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these lands but newly From an ultimate dim Thule -- From a wild, weird clime that lieth, sublime, Out of SPACE, out of TIME.

Men of genius are far more abundant than is supposed. In fact, to appreciate thoroughly the work of what we call genius, is to possess all the genius by which the work was produced.

Now this is the point. You fancy me a mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded.