I don't need the stars in the night I found my treasure All I need is you by my side so shine forever

When the melancholy fit shall fall Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, That fosters the droop-headed flowers all, And hides the green hill in an April shroud; Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose.

What occasions the greater part of the world's quarrels? Simply this: Two minds meet and do not understand each other in time enough to prevent any shock of surprise at the conduct of either party.

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.

A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.

Who would wish to be among the commonplace crowd of the little famous - who are each individually lost in a throng made up of themselves?

Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them; thou has thy music too.