Soul meets soul on lovers' lips.

How wonderful is death! Death and his brother sleep.

I think that the leaf of a tree, the meanest insect on which we trample, are in themselves arguments more conclusive than any which can be adduced that some vast intellect animates Infinity.

The great secret of morals is Love; or a going out of our own nature, and an identification of ourselves with the beautiful which exists in thought, action, or person, not our own.

When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead - When the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed.

In the infancy of society every author is necessarily a poet

I wish no living thing to suffer pain.