Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave a paradise for a sect.

The Public - a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.

The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.

When it is moving on luxurious wings, The soul is lost in pleasant smotherings.

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering?

If I should die, I have left no immortal work behind me — nothing to make my friends proud of my memory — but I have loved the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remembered.

Wherein lies happiness? In that which becks Our ready minds to fellowship divine, A fellowship with essence; till we shine, Full alchemiz’d, and free of space. Behold The clear religion of heaven!