Women are so strange in their influence that they tempt you to misplaced kindness.

We colour and mould according to the wants within us whatever our eyes bring in.

Do you know that I have undergone three quarters of this labour entirely for the sake of the fourth quarter?

Of course poets have morals and manners of their own, and custom is no argument with them.

You could sometimes see her twelfth year in her cheeks, or her ninth sparkling from her eyes; and even her fifth would flit over the curves of her mouth now and then.

Women are so strange in their influence that they tempt you to misplaced kindness.

Black chaos comes, and the fettered gods of the earth say, Let there be light.