God is the poetic genius in each of us.

Where others see but the dawn coming over the hill, I see the soul of God shouting for joy.

The spirits of the air live on the smells Of fruit; and joy, with pinions light, roves round The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.

Children of the future age Reading this indignant page Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was thought a crime

Joys impregnate. Sorrows bring forth.

Shame is pride's cloak.

Those who restrain their desires, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.