There is no real wealth but the labour of man.

The wise want love; and those who love want wisdom.

The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.

Rulers, who neither see, nor feel, nor know, but leech-like to their fainting country cling, till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow, - a people starved and stabbed in the untilled field.

I love tranquil solitude.

Worlds on worlds are rolling ever From creation to decay, Like the bubbles on a river Sparkling, bursting, borne away.

Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present.