Touch has a memory.
The poetry of the earth is never dead.
The problems of the world cannot possibly be solved by skeptics or cynics whose horizons are limited by the obvious realities. We need men who can dream of things that never were.
Poetry should... should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance”.
The excellency of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeable evaporate.
When I have fears that I may ceace to be, Before my pen has gleaned my teaming brain”.
Fine writing, next to doing nothing, is the best thing in the world.
I go amongst the buildings of a city and I see a Man hurrying along – to what?
The only means of strengthening one’s intellect is to make up one’s mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.
Scenery is fine – but human nature is finer.
You are always new, the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest.
The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.
I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart’s affections, and the truth of imagination.
Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art – Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite.
Parting they seemed to tread upon the air, Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart Only to meet again more close.
My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight; With wings of gentle flush o’er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.
Shed no tear – O, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Weep no more – O, weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root’s white core.
Life is but a day: A fragile dewdrop on its perilious way From a tree’s summit.