I love all waste and solitary places.
A Christian, a Deist, a Turk, and a Jew, have equal rights: they are men and brethren.
That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon.
Necessity, thou mother of the world!
Kings are like stars,-they rise and set, they have The worship of the world, but no repose.
The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow.