Who gives himself with his alms feeds three, himself, his hungering neighbor and me.

The mind can weave itself warmly in the cocoon of its own thoughts, and dwell a hermit anywhere.

The eye is the notebook of the poet.

Men's thoughts and opinions are in a great degree vassals of him who invents a new phrase or re-applies an old epithet. The thought or feeling a thousand times repeated becomes his at last who utters it best.

Piety is indifferent whether she enters at the eye or at the ear. There is none of the senses at which she does not knock one day or other. The Puritans forgot this, and thrust Beauty out of the meeting-house and slammed the door in her face.

If youth be a defect, it is one that we outgrow only too soon.

To have greatly dreamed precludes low ends.