We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author.
The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.
Load every rift with ore.
I have met with women whom I really think would like to be married to a Poem and to be given away by a Novel.
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.