In secret we met In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive.
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more.
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes...
All who joy would win Must share it – Happiness was born a twin.
The great object of life is sensation- to feel that we exist, even though in pain.
If I do not write to empty my mind, I go mad.
Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think.
Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.