Yes, marriage is hateful, detestable. A kind of ineffable, sickening disgust seizes my mind when I think of this most despotic, most unrequited fetter which prejudice has forged to confine its energies.

Can man be free if woman be a slave?

There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!

Of Planets, struggling fierce towards heaven's free wilderness.

Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.

Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.

I consider poetry very subordinate to moral and political science.