No sooner had I stepp'd into these pleasures Than I began to think of rhymes and measures: The air that floated by me seem'd to say 'Write! thou wilt never have a better day.

We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.

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

--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

And how they kist each other's tremulous eyes.

To bear all naked truths, And to envisage circumstance, all calm, That is the top of sovereignty

Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.