Hatred is the madness of the heart.
Grief is fantastical, and loves the dead, And the apparel of the grave.
Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.
Reason is so unreasonable, that few people can say they are in possession of it.
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.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.