Power, like a desolating pestilence, pollutes whatever it touches.

Death will come when thou art dead, soon, too soon.

One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it.

Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.

A pard-like spirit, beautiful and swift.

I love all waste and solitary places.

Reviewers, with some rare exceptions, are a most stupid and malignant race. As a bankrupt thief turns thief-taker in despair, so an unsuccessful author turns critic.