Fame itself is but an epitaph; as late, as false, as true.
Keep up the fires of thought, and all will go well.
A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind.
What right have I to grieve, who have not ceased to wonder?
The great poem must have the stamp of greatness as well as its essence.
The only sin in the world is ignorance.