Cant is the parrot talk of a profession.

Alone, Alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide wide sea! And never saint took pity on My soul in agony

He knows well the evening star, and once when he awoke, in a most distressful mood (some inward pain had made up that strange thing, an infant's dream), I hurried with him to our orchard plot, and he beheld the moon, and hushed at once. Suspends his sobs and laughs most silently. While his fair eyes, that swam with undropped tears, did glitter in the yellow moonbeam.

And to be wroth with one we love…Doth work like madness in the brain.

Taste is the intermediate faculty which connects the active with the passive powers of our nature, the intellect with the senses; and its appointed function is to elevate the images of the latter, while it realizes the ideas of the former.

If people could learn history, what lessons it might teach us!

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