I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand.

Exhausting thought, And hiving wisdom with each studious year.

The dome of thought, the palace of the soul.

The mind can make substance, and people planets of its own with beings brighter than have been, and give a breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.

To what gulfs A single deviation from the track Of human duties leads even those who claim The homage of mankind as their born due, And find it, till they forfeit it themselves!

I am always most religious upon a sunshiny day.

Life is too short for chess.