The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies, It wrenches such ardors from me I did not know I possess'd them

In all people I see myself - none more, and not one a barleycorn less; And the good or bad I say of myself, I say of them.

Camden was originally an accident, but I shall never be sorry I was left over in Camden. It has brought me blessed returns.

I exist as I am, that is enough, If no other in the world be aware, I sit content, And if each and all be aware, I sit content.

I and this mystery, here we stand.

A man can be a hero in any profession

Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much? Have you practis’d so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?