A God made by man undoubtedly has need of man to make himself known to man.

Man's yesterday may never be like his morrow; Nought may endure but Mutability.

All high poetry is infinite; it is as the first acorn, which contained all oaks potentially.

I love all waste and solitary places.

Life and the world, or whatever we call that which we are and feel, is an astonishing thing. The mist of familiarity obscures from us the wonder of our being. We are struck with admiration at some of its transient modifications, but it is itself the great miracle.

Sounds of vernal showers On the twinkling grass, Rain awaken'd flowers, All that ever was Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass

I consider poetry very subordinate to moral and political science.