...one interior life in which all beings live with God, themselves are God, existing in the mighty whole, indistinguishable as the cloudless east is from the cloudless west, when all the hemisphere is one cerulean blue.

Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge - it is as immortal as the heart of man.

Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.

The light that never was, on sea or land; The consecration, and the Poet's dream.

Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,-the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.

Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade Of that which once was great is passed away.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.