Novels are to love as fairy tales to dreams.

Ah! well a-day! what evil looks / Had I from old and young! / Instead of the cross, the Albatross / About my neck was hung.

Poetry gives most pleasure when only generally and not perfectly understood.

My case is a species of madness, only that it is a derangement of the Volition, and not of the intellectual faculties.

For compassion a human heart suffices, but for full and adequate sympathy, with joy, an angel's only.

In wonder all philosophy began, in wonder it ends, and admiration fill up the interspace; but the first wonder is the offspring of ignorance, the last is the parent of adoration.

The devil is not, indeed, perfectly humorous, but that is only because he is the extreme of all humor.