Blessed is the healthy nature; it is the coherent, sweetly co-operative, not incoherent, self-distracting, self-destructive one!

The genius of Shakespeare was an innate university.

To Sorrow I bade good-morrow, And thought to leave her far away behind; But cheerly, cheerly, She loves me dearly: She is so constant to me, and so kind.

A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.

Closer of lovely eyes to lovely dreams, Lover of loneliness, and wandering, Of upcast eye, and tender pondering! Thee must I praise above all other glories That smile us on to tell delightful stories.

Alas! when passion is both meek and wild!

Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own works.