I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections, and the truth of imagination.

To Sorrow I bade good-morrow, And thought to leave her far away behind; But cheerly, cheerly, She loves me dearly: She is so constant to me, and so kind.

The excellence of every Art is its intensity.

But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings That fill the sky with silver glitterings!

The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.

To one who has been long in city pent, ’Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament.

Load every rift with ore.