I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.

Who would wish to be among the commonplace crowd of the little famous - who are each individually lost in a throng made up of themselves?

O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!

If I should die, I have left no immortal work behind me — nothing to make my friends proud of my memory — but I have loved the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remembered.

O Solitude! If I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap of murky buildings

We have oftener than once endeavoured to attach some meaning to that aphorism, vulgarly imputed to Shaftesbury, which however we can find nowhere in his works, that "ridicule is the test of truth."

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains/ My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk.