For a man to become a poet (witness Petrarch and Dante), he must be in love, or miserable.

All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.

Though the day of my Destiny 's over, And the star of my Fate hath declined, Thy soft heart refused to discover The faults which so many could find.

It is when we think we lead that we are most led.

What deep wounds ever closed without a scar? The hearts bleed longest, and heals but to wear That which disfigures it.

Better to sink beneath the shock Than moulder piecemeal on the rock!

What opposite discoveries we have seen! (Signs of true genius, and of empty pockets.) One makes new noses, one a guillotine, One breaks your bones, one sets them in their sockets; But vaccination certainly has been A kind antithesis to Congreve's rockets.