We find little in a book but what we put there. But in great books, the mind finds room to put many things.
Our life is woven wind.
The early and the latter part of human life are the best, or, at least, the most worthy of respect; the one as the age of innocence, the other of reason.
Imagination is the eye of the soul.
Nothing which does not transport is poetry. The lyre is a winged instrument.
Abuse of words is the foundation of ideology.