The poetry of the earth is never dead.
How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they
Ay, on the shores of darkness there is a light, and precipices show untrodden green; there is a budding morrow in midnight; there is triple sight in blindness keen.
For axioms in philosophy are not axioms until they are proved upon our pulses.
The imagination may be compared to Adam's dream-he awoke and found it truth.
He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.