So will I build my altar in the fields, And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be, And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields Shall be the incense I will yield to thee.

The moving moon went up the sky, And nowhere did abide: Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside.

Sir, I admit your general rule, That every poet is a fool, But you yourself may serve to show it, That every fool is not a poet.

The wise only possess ideas; the greater part of mankind are possessed by them.

To sentence a man of true genius, to the drudgery of a school is to put a racehorse on a treadmill.

As a man without forethought scarcely deserves the name of a man, so forethought without reflection is but a metaphorical phrase for the instinct of a beast.

A rogue is a roundabout fool.