There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music.

O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!

The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children.

O Solitude! If I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap of murky buildings

A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.

My mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it.

... for, by all the stars That tend thy bidding, I do think the bars That kept my spirit in are burst - that I Am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!