Nothing wilts faster than laurels that have been rested upon.

The great secret of morals is love; or a going out of our nature, and an identification of ourselves with the beautiful which exists in thought, action, or person, not our own. A man, to be greatly good, must imagine intensely and comprehensively; he must put himself in the place of another and of many others; the pains and pleasure of his species must become his own. The great instrument of moral good is the imagination.

I have neither curiosity, interest, pain nor pleasure, in anything, good or evil, they can say of me. I feel only a slight disgust, and a sort of wonder that they presume to write my name.

Familiar acts are beautiful through love.

Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.

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

The crime of inquiry is one which religion never has forgiven.