Gold is a living god and rules in scorn, All earthly things but virtue.
The encomium of one incapable of flattery is indeed flattering.
The great community of mankind had been subdivided into ten thousand communities, each organized for the ruin of the other.
Where is perfection? Where I cannot reach.
Persevere even though Hell and destruction should yawn beneath your feet.
Ere Babylon was dust, The Magus Zoroaster, my dead child, Met his own image walking in the garden, That apparition, sole of men, he saw.
Man is of soul and body, formed for deeds Of high resolve; on fancy’s boldest wing.
The babe is at peace within the womb, the corpse is at rest within the tomb. We begin in what we end.
I am not much of a hand at love songs, you see I mingle metaphysics with even this, but perhaps in this age of Philosophy that may be excused.
O! I burn with impatience for the moment of the dissolution of intolerance; it has injured me.
Until the mind can love, and admire, and trust, and hope, and endure, reasoned principles of moral conduct are seeds cast upon the highway of life which the unconscious passenger tramples into dust.
Belief is involuntary; nothing involuntary is meritorious or reprehensible. A man ought not to be considered worse or better for his belief.
In proportion as a man is selfish, so far has he receded from the motive which constitutes virtue.
Thy words are like a cloud of winged snakes.
The pale stars are gone! For the sun, their swift shepherd, To their folds them compelling, In the depths of the dawn, Hastes, in meteor-eclipsing array, and the flee Beyond his blue dwelling, As fawns flee the leopard.
I cannot endure the horror, the evil, which comes to self in solitude.
I know the cause of all human disappointment – worldly prejudice.
And bid them love each other and be blest: And leave the troop which errs, and which reproves, And come and be my guest, – for I am Love’s.
I love Love – though he has wings, And like light can flee, But above all other things, Spirit, I love thee – Thou art love and life! Oh come, Make once more my heart thy home.
Love’s Pestilence, and her slow dogs of war.