Language is fossil Poetry.
Let him be great, and love shall follow him.
The eye obeys exactly the action of the mind.
God will have life to be real; we will be damned, but it shall be theatrical.
Where do we find ourselves? In a series of which we do not know the extremes, and believe that it has none. We wake and find ourselves on a stair; there are stairs below us, which we seem to have ascended; there are stairs above us, many a one, which go upward and out of sight.
He that writes to himself writes to an eternal public.