Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, He would have written sonnets all his life?.

Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded. That all the Apostles would have done as they did.

That prose is a verse, and verse is a prose; convincing all, by demonstrating plain – poetic souls delight in prose insane

It has been said that the immortality of the soul is a grand peut-tre -but still it is a grand one. Everybody clings to it -the stupidest, and dullest, and wickedest of human bipeds is still persuaded that he is immortal.

I cannot conceive why people will always mix up my own character and opinions with those of the imaginary beings which, as a poet, I have the right and liberty to draw.

And wrinkles, the damned democrats, won't flatter.

Oh, Mirth and Innocence! Oh, Milk and Water! Ye happy mixture of more happy days!