The heart will break, but broken live on.

Parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till-'t is gone, and all is gray.

Sometimes we are less unhappy in being deceived by those we love, than in being undeceived by them.

This sort of adoration of the real is but a heightening of the beau ideal.

Fills The air around with beauty.

To be perfectly original one should think much and read little, and this is impossible, for one must have read before one has learnt to think.

Thy decay's still impregnate with divinity.