I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.
Four seasons fill the measure of the year; there are four seasons in the minds of men.
Open afresh your rounds of starry folds, Ye ardent Marigolds.
I have loved the principle of beauty in all things.
Talking of Pleasure, this moment I was writing with one hand, and with the other holding to my Mouth a Nectarine - how good how fine. It went down all pulpy, slushy, oozy, all its delicious embonpoint melted down my throat like a large, beatified Strawberry.
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite.