That willing suspension of disbelief for the moment, which constitutes poetic faith.

This is the course of every evil deed, that, propagating still it brings forth evil.

No man does anything from a single motive.

Motives by excess reverse their very nature and instead of exciting, stun and stupefy the mind.

How strange and awful is the synthesis of life and death in the gusty winds and falling leaves of an autumnal day!

And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin is pride that apes humility.

O pure of heart! Thou needest not ask of me what this strong music in the soul may be!