Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange
The great instrument of moral good is the imagination.
The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?
Love's Pestilence, and her slow dogs of war.
Joy, once lost, is pain
The more we study the more we discover our ignorance.