To silence gossip, don't repeat it.

I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of the Imagination – What the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth – whether it existed before or not – for I have the same Idea of all our Passions as of Love they are all in their sublime, creative of essential Beauty . . .

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!

Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul.

Many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death.

His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead, Unsceptred; and his realmless eyes were closed.

The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.