Blown roses hold their sweetness to the last.
All empire is no more than power in trust.
Genius must be born, and never can be taught.
Affability, mildness, tenderness, and a word which I would fain bring back to its original signification of virtue,--I mean good-nature,--are of daily use; they are the bread of mankind and staff of life.
The perverseness of my fate is such that he's not mine because he's mine too much.
Imagining is in itself the very height and life of poetry, which, by a kind of enthusiasm or extraordinary emotion of the soul, makes it seem to us that we behold those things which the poet paints.