He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.

You speak of Lord Byron and me; there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task.

There is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun.

There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish.

To stay youthful, stay useful.

Though a quarrel in the streets is a thing to be hated, the energies displayed in it are fine; the commonest man shows a grace in his quarrel.