Pain has its own noble joy, when it starts a strong consciousness of life, from a stagnant one.

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Every fancy that we would substitute for a reality is, if we saw aright, and saw the whole, not only false, but every way less beautiful and excellent than that which we sacrifice to it.

Speech is as a pump, by which we raise and pour out the water from the great lake of Thought,--whither it flows back again.

Man is a substance clad in shadows.

Poetry is in itself strength and joy, whether it be crowned by all mankind, or left alone in its own magic hermitage.

Toil, feel, think, hope; you will be sure to dream enough before you die, without arranging for it.