I find that I can have no enjoyment in the world but the continual drinking of knowledge. I find there is no worthy pursuit but the idea of doing some good for the world.

There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.

Through the sad heart of Ruth, when sick for home She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that ofttimes hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.

Stop and consider! life is but a day

Already with thee! tender is the night. . . But here there is no light. . .

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