With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.
In the deepest slumber-no! In delirium-no! In a swoon-no! In death-no! even in the grave all is not lost.
A million candles have burned themselves out. Still I read on. (Montresor)
Literature is the most noble of professions. In fact, it is about the only one fit for a man.
Mysteries force a man to think, and so injure his health.
The world is a great ocean, upon which we encounter more tempestuous storms than calms.