For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.

The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away; than what it leaves behind.

The world is too much with us; late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.

Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.

He who feels contempt for any living thing hath faculties that he hath never used, and thought with him is in its infancy.

What is a Poet? He is a man speaking to men: a man, it is true, endued with more lively sensibility, more enthusiasm and tenderness, who has a greater knowledge of human nature, and a more comprehensive soul, than are supposed to be common among mankind; a man pleased with his own passions and volitions, and who rejoices more than other men in the spirit of life that is in him; delighting to contemplate similar volitions and passions as manifested in the goings-on of the universe, and habitually impelled to create them where he does not find them.

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