One may do whatever one likes. In art, the only thing is, to make sure that one does like it.

Silence 'tis awe decrees.

Tis looking downward makes one dizzy.

Men are not angels, neither are they brutes.

Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe, all were for me, in the kiss of one girl.

I do what many dream of, all their lives

The rain set early in tonight, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its best to vex the lake: I listened with heart fit to break. When glided in Porphyria; straight She shut the cold out and the storm, And kneeled and made the cheerless grate Blaze up and all the cottage warm.