O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!
Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream, And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by? ---"On death
Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them; thou has thy music too.
O aching time! O moments big as years!
Wine is only sweet to happy men.
I never knew before, what such a love as you have made me feel, was; I did not believe in it; my Fancy was afraid of it, lest it should burn me up. But if you will fully love me, though there may be some fire, 'twill not be more than we can bear when moistened and bedewed with Pleasures.