Poet's food is love and fame.

Ah! what a divine religion might be found out if charity were really made the principle of it instead of faith.

Necessity, thou mother of the world!

If a person's religious ideas correspond not with your own, love him nevertheless

Oh that simplicity and innocence its own unvalued work so seldom knows!

Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep - he hath awakened from the dream of life - 'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep with phantoms an unprofitable strife.

And on the pedestal these words appear:
 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
 Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!' 
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
 Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
 The lone and level sands stretch far away.