I have seen great intolerance shown in support of tolerance.

An idea, in the highest sense of that word, cannot be conveyed but by a symbol.

Like one, that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head; Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.

To most men experience is like the stern lights of a ship, which illuminate only the track it has passed.

This world has angels all too few, and heaven is overflowing.

Death but supplies the oil for the inextinguishable lamp of life.

Her lips were red, her looks were free, Her locks were yellow as gold: Her skin was white as leprosy, The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she, Who thicks man's blood with cold.