O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors: The north is thine; there hast thou build thy dark, Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs, Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.

Travelers repose and dream among my leaves.

Knowledge is Life with wings

I must create a system or be enslaved by another mans; I will not reason and compare: my business is to create.

In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors.

Nature in darkness groans and men are bound to sullen contemplation in the night: restless they turn on beds of sorrow; in their inmost brain feeling the crushing wheels, they rise, they write the bitter words of stern philosophy and knead the bread of knowledge with tears and groans.

We are led to believe a lie When we see not through the eye.