Mind and night will meet, though in silence, like forbidden lovers.

Obey thy genius, for a minister it is unto the throne of fate. Draw to thy soul, and centralize the rays which are around of the Divinity.

The long days are no happier than the short ones.

Remember that thy heart will shed its pleasures as thine eye its tears, and both leave loathsome furrows.

We must not pluck death from the Maker's hand.

Poets are all who love, who feel great truths, And tell them; and the truth of truths is love.

Evil then results from imperfection.