There are some feelings time cannot benumb, Nor torture shake.

The sight of blood to crowds begets the thirst of more, As the first wine-cup leads to the long revel.

There is pleasure in the pathless woods.

She was like me in lineaments-- her eyes Her hair, her features, all, to the very tone Even of her voice, they said were like to mine; But soften'd all, and temper'd into beauty; She had the same lone thoughts and wanderings, The quest of hidden knowledge, and a mind To comprehend the universe: nor these Alone, but with them gentler powers than mine, Pity, and smiles, and tears-- which I had not; And tenderness-- but that I had for her; Humility-- and that I never had. Her faults were mine-- her virtues were her own-- I loved her, and destroy'd her!

Yes! Ready money is Aladdin's lamp.

And I would hear yet once before I perish The voice which was my music... Speak to me!

I depart, Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.