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

Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.

To be young was very heaven!

A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.

As generations come and go, Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow; Fate, fortune, sweep strong powers away, And feeble, of themselves, decay.

We Poets in our youth begin in gladness; But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.

Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.