Literary men are . . . a perpetual priesthood.

When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," - that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

Works of genius are the first things in the world.

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

I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite.

O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!