I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of the Imagination – What the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth – whether it existed before or not – for I have the same Idea of all our Passions as of Love they are all in their sublime, creative of essential Beauty . . .

What is more gentle than a wind is summer?

To silence gossip, don't repeat it.

I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.

I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew; And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.

The genius of Shakespeare was an innate university.

All clean and comfortable I sit down to write.