Despair and Genius are too oft connected
Reason is so unreasonable, that few people can say they are in possession of it.
Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.
Life is too short for chess.
Come what may, I have been blest.
Many are poets, but without the name;For what is Poesy but to createFrom overfeeling Good or Ill; and aimAt an external life beyond our fate,And be the new Prometheus of new men,Bestowing fire from Heaven, and then, too late,Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain