My mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it.
On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence.
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.
There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music.
O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
We have oftener than once endeavoured to attach some meaning to that aphorism, vulgarly imputed to Shaftesbury, which however we can find nowhere in his works, that "ridicule is the test of truth."