Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.

Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science

A lawyer art thou? Draw not nigh! Go, carry to some fitter place The keenness of that practised eye, The hardness of that sallow face.

Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven; The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.

Imagination is the means of deep insight and sympathy, the power to conceive and express images removed from normal objective reality.

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.

That best portion of a man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.