The rain came down upon my head - Unshelter'd. And the wind rendered me mad and deaf and blind.

The sole purpose is to provide infinite springs, at which the soul may allay the eternal thirst TO KNOW which is forever unquenchable within it, since to quench it, would be to extinguish the soul's self.

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

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

Believe me, there exists no such dilemma as that in which a gentleman is placed when he is forced to reply to a blackguard.

The death then of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world, and equally is it beyond doubt that the lips best suited for such topic are those of a bereaved lover.

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