A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in short, more consonant to Nature.

A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.

The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.

What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.

For all things are less dreadful than they seem.

'T is hers to pluck the amaranthine flower Of faith, and round the sufferer's temples bind Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower, And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind.

A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!