The hand of Vengeance found the Bed To which the Purple Tyrant fled The iron hand crush'd the tyrant's head And became Tyrant in his stead.

The soul of sweet delight, can never be defiled.

I rest not from my great task! | To open the Eternal Worlds, | to open the immortal Eyes of Man | Inwards into the Worlds of Thought; | Into eternity, ever expanding | In the Bosom of God, | The Human Imagination

He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.

More! More! is the cry of a mistaken soul.

The voice of honest indignation is the voice of God.

Exuberance is beauty.