We are fastened to a dying animal.

My father was an angry and impatient teacher and flung the reading book at my head.

What's memory but the ash That chokes our fires that have begun to sink?

Ecstasy is from the contemplation of things vaster than the individual and imperfectly seen perhaps, by all those that still live.

People are responsible for their opinions, but Providence is responsible for their morals.

I think it better that in times like these a poet's mouth be silent, for in truth we have no gift to set a statesman right.

Grant me an old man's frenzy, Myself must I remake Till I am Timon and Lear Or that William Blake Who beat upon the wall Till Truth obeyed his call.