Whatever the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth -whether it existed before or not

When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance.

His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead, Unsceptred; and his realmless eyes were closed.

... for, by all the stars That tend thy bidding, I do think the bars That kept my spirit in are burst - that I Am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!

Works of genius are the first things in the world.

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains/ My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk.

I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.