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

There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.

Health is my expected heaven.

Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity.

What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the chameleon poet.

A man's life of any worth is a continual allegory, and very few eyes can see the mystery of his life, a life like the scriptures, figurative.