Religion! but for thee, prolific fiend, Who peoplest earth with demons, hell with men, And heaven with slaves!

For this is the most civil sort of lie That can be given to a man's face. I now Say what I think.

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.

A poet, as he is the author to others of the highest wisdom, pleasure, virtue, and glory, so he ought personally to be the happiest, the best, the wisest, and the most illustrious of men.

Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.

Far clouds of feathery gold, Shaded with deepest purple, gleam Like islands on a dark blue sea.

Can man be free if woman be a slave?