Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science
A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.
The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.
... and we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.