My mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it.

O Solitude! If I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap of murky buildings

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken.

I will give you a definition of a proud man: he is a man who has neither vanity nor wisdom one filled with hatreds cannot be vain, neither can he be wise.

There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.

How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they

Already with thee! tender is the night. . . But here there is no light. . .