There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if men had ears; The earth is but the music of the spheres.

Despair and Genius are too oft connected

Constancy... that small change of love, which people exact so rigidly, receive in such counterfeit coin, and repay in baser metal.

In commitment, we dash the hopes of a thousand potential selves.

This man is freed from servile bands, Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though not of lands, And leaving nothing, yet hath all.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean

If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad.