There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music.
Ay, on the shores of darkness there is a light, and precipices show untrodden green; there is a budding morrow in midnight; there is triple sight in blindness keen.
The days of peace and slumberous calm are fled.
Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams The summer time away.
one of the most mysterious of semi-speculations is, one would suppose, that of one Mind's imagining into another
But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings That fill the sky with silver glitterings!