And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.

This City now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

Plain living and high thinking are no more.

Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science

Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.

In modern business it is not the crook who is to be feared most, it is the honest man who doesn't know what he is doing.