The Language of the Dream/Night is contrary to that of Waking/Day. It is a language of Images and Sensations, the various dialects of which are far less different from each other, than the various Day-Languages of Nations.

I feel as if God had, by giving the Sabbath, given fifty-two springs in every year.

I do not call the sod under my feet my country; but language-religion-government-blood-identity in these makes men of one country.

The sense of beauty is intuitive, and beauty itself is all that inspires pleasure without, and aloof from, and even contrarily to interest.

To doubt has more of faith ... than that blank negation of all such thoughts and feelings which is the lot of the herd of church-and-meeting trotters.

All sympathy not consistent with acknowledged virtue is but disguised selfishness.

Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.