His religion at best is an anxious wish,-like that of Rabelais, a great Perhaps.

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.

I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.

I cannot exist without you - I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again - my Life seems to stop there - I see no further. You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.

That which is creative must create itself.

There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.

And when thou art weary I'll find thee a bed, Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head.