Twin-sister of Religion, Selfishness.

His fine wit Makes such a wound, the knife is lost in it.

A story of particular facts is a mirror which obscures and distorts that which should be beautiful; poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which it distorts.

Power, like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches; and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and of the human frame A mechanized automaton.

Many a green isle needs must be In the deep wide sea of Misery, Or the mariner, worn and wan, Never thus could voyage on.

But I am chained to Time, and cannot thence depart!

The awful shadow of some unseen Power Floats, tho' unseen, amongst us.