Oh, the difficulty of fixing the attention of men on the world within them!

And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.

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.

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

Poetry: the best words in the best order.

That agony returns; And till my ghastly tale is told, This heart within me burns.

Rage is essentially vulgar.