One of those heavenly days that cannot die.

"One impulse from a vernal wood

Science appears but what in truth she is, Not as our glory and our absolute boast, But as a succedaneum, and a prop To our infirmity.

Oft in my way have I stood still, though but a casual passenger, so much I felt the awfulness of life.

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

Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil.

The unconquerable pang of despised love.