Imagining in excited reverie That the future years had come, Dancing to a frenzied drum, Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.

God guard me from those thoughts men think In the mind alone.

How can we know the dancer from the dance?

My wretched dragon is perplexed.

I believe... that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.

I am still of opinion that only two topics can be of the least interest to a serious and studious mood - sex and the dead.

Odor of blood when Christ was slain Made all Platonic tolerance vain And vain all Doric discipline.