O friend, never strike sail to a fear! Come into port greatly, or sail with God the seas.

Not the sun or summer alone, but every hour and season yields its tribute of delight.

Genius has no taste for weaving sand.

A poem is made up of thoughts, each of which filled the whole sky of the poet in its turn.

If the tongue had not been framed for articulation, man would still be a beast in the forest.

To be great, you must be misunderstood

It is the fault of our rhetoric that we cannot strongly state one fact without seeming to belie some other.