Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage.

Wisdom is sold in a desolate marketplace where none can come to buy.

What is the price of experience? Do men buy it for a song? Or wisdom for a dance in the street? No, it is bought with the price of all the man hath, his house, his wife, his children.

And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds and binding with briars my joys and desires. (from 'The Garden of Love')

Bring me my bow of burning gold: Bring me my arrows of desire: Bring me my spear: O clouds, unfold! Bring me my chariot of fire.

The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity... and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.

The world of imagination is the world of eternity.