A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.

Give me books, fruit, French wine and fine weather and a little music out of doors, played by someone I do not know. I admire lolling on a lawn by a water-lilied pond to eat white currants and see goldfish: and go to the fair in the evening if I'm good. There is not hope for that -one is sure to get into some mess before evening.

She hurried at his words, beset with fears, For there were sleeping dragons all around.

Wherein lies happiness? In that which becks Our ready minds to fellowship divine, A fellowship with essence; till we shine, Full alchemiz’d, and free of space. Behold The clear religion of heaven!

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

There is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object.

The genius of Shakespeare was an innate university.