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?

Great is the faith of the flush of knowledge and of the investigation of the depths of qualities and things.

Perhaps the efforts of the true poets, founders, religions, literatures, all ages, have been, and ever will be, our time and times to come, essentially the same - to bring people back from their present strayings and sickly abstractions, to the costless, average, divine, original concrete.

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

I henceforth tread the world, chaste, temperate, an early riser, a steady grower.

Logic and sermons never convince, The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul.

O the joy of the strong-brawn'd fighter, towering in the arena in perfect condition, conscious of power, thirsting to meet his opponent.