... the business of life shuts us up within the environs of London and within sight of human advancement, which I should be so very glad to believe in without seeing.
In poor Rosamond's mind there was not room enough for luxuries to look small in.
Fine art, poetry, that kind of thing, elevates a nation.
In the ages since Adam's marriage, it has been good for some men to be alone, and for some women also.
Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds.
Here undoubtedly lies the chief poetic energy: - in the force of imagination that pierces or exalts the solid fact, instead of floating among cloud-pictures.