Poetry is the art of substantiating shadows, and of lending existence to nothing.
The truly sublime is always easy, and always natural.
Nothing in progression can rest on its original plan. We may as well think of rocking a grown man in the cradle of an infant.
Power, in whatever hands, is rarely guilty of too strict limitations on itself.
Teach me, O lark! with thee to greatly rise, to exalt my soul and lift it to the skies.
Flattery corrupts both the receiver and the giver.