Already with thee! tender is the night. . . But here there is no light. . .

I have an habitual feeling of my real life having past, and that I am leading a posthumous existence.

Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?

You speak of Lord Byron and me; there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task.

I always made an awkward bow.

... the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown - the Air is our robe of state - the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it.

one of the most mysterious of semi-speculations is, one would suppose, that of one Mind's imagining into another