Invisible things are the only realities.

To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary.

There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust.

From a proud tower in the town, Death looks gigantically down.

There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion.

And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but overacuteness of the senses?

In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed-- But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted.