I have said that poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity: the emotion is contemplated till, by a species of reaction, the tranquillity gradually disappears, and an emotion, kindred to that which was before the subject of contemplation, is gradually produced, and does itself actually exist in the mind.

Turning, for them who pass, the common dust Of servile opportunity to gold.

There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.

To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

My apprehension comes in crowds, I dread the rustling of the grass, The very shadows of the clouds, Have power to shake me as they pass, I question things and do not find, one that will answer to my mind, And all the world appears unkind.

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

Stop thinking for once in your life!