Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.

A little noiseless noise among the leaves, Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.

The excellency of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeable evaporate.

Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a muse' d rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!

Four seasons fill the measure of the year; there are four seasons in the minds of men.

There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music.