One man pins me to the wall, while with another I walk among the stars
Men over forty are no judges of a book written in a new spirit.
Those who cannot tell what they desire or expect, still sigh and struggle with indefinite thoughts and vast wishes.
Our prayers are prophets.
Sooner or later that which is now life shall be poetry, and every fair and manly trait shall add a richer strain to the song.
Ennui shortens life, and bereaves the day of its light.