Failure is in a sense the highway to success, as each discovery of what is false leads us to seek earnestly after what is true.

O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet the Evening listens.

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!

In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.

My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.

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

No sooner had I stepp'd into these pleasures Than I began to think of rhymes and measures: The air that floated by me seem'd to say 'Write! thou wilt never have a better day.