Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun.
Failure is in a sense the highway to success, as each discovery of what is false leads us to seek earnestly after what is true.
All clean and comfortable I sit down to write.
Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.
Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.