It is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.
I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me: and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum of human cities torture.
Life is too short for chess.
My heart in passion, and my head on rhymes.
Though I love my country, I do not love my countrymen.
One of the pleasures of reading old letters is the knowledge that they need no answer.