There is a woman at the begining of all great things.
What a day-to-day affair life is.
Oh, what a day-to-day business life is.
But only God can make a tree.
I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.
You know, my friends, with what a brave carouse I made a Second Marriage in my house; favored old barren reason from my bed, and took the daughter of the vine to spouse.
The thoughtful soul to solitude retires.
There was a door to which I found no key: There was the veil through which I might not see.
A hair divides what is false and true.
Myself when young did eagerly frequent doctor and saint, and heard great argument about it and about: but evermore came out by the same door as in I went.
Living Life Tomorrow's fate, though thou be wise, Thou canst not tell nor yet surmise; Pass, therefore, not today in vain, For it will never come again.
The moving finger writes, and having written moves on. Nor all thy piety nor all thy wit, can cancel half a line of it.
Drink! for you know not whence you came nor why: drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.
When I want to understand what is happening today or try to decide what will happen tomorrow, I look back.
Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.
He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.
I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.
Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish.
Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.
I will give you a definition of a proud man: he is a man who has neither vanity nor wisdom one filled with hatreds cannot be vain, neither can he be wise.
Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity, it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.
Land and sea, weakness and decline are great separators, but death is the great divorcer for ever.
The poetry of the earth is never dead.
I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.
I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.
You speak of Lord Byron and me; there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task.
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.
