Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds. |
Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar. |
Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar. |
Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world. |
Power, like a desolating pestilence, pollutes whatever it touches. |
Reason respects the differences, and imagination the similitudes of things |
Revenge is the naked idol of the worship of a semi-barbarous age. |
Reviewers, with some rare exceptions, are a most stupid and malignant race. As a bankrupt thief turns thief-taker in despair, so an unsuccessful author turns critic. |
Rulers, who neither see, nor feel, nor know, but leech-like to their fainting country cling, till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow, -- a people starved and stabbed in the untilled field... |
Soul meets soul on lovers' lips. |
Teas, Where small talk dies in agonies |
The beauty of the internal nature cannot be so far concealed by its accidental vesture, but that the spirit of its form shall communicate itself to the very disguise and indicate the shape it hides from the manner in which it is worn. A majestic form |
The breath of accusation kills an innocent name, and leaves for lame acquittal the poor life, which is a mask without it |
The Galilean is not a favorite of mine. So far from owing him any thanks for his favor, I cannot avoid confessing that I owe a secret grudge to his carpentership. |
The gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present. |