You are always new, The last of your kisses was ever the sweetest.
Much have I traveled in the realms of gold, and many goodly states and kingdoms seen.
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard, are sweeter
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? / Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,
Touch has a memory. O say, love, say,What can I do to kill it and be free?
We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author.
I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.
There is a budding morrow in midnight, / There is a triple sight in blindness keen.
‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,’ – that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
For axioms in philosophy are not axioms until they are proved upon our pulses.
Bards of Passion and of Mirth, / Ye have left your souls on earth! Have ye souls in heaven too?
If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree it had better not come at all.
I must choose between despair and Energy──I choose the latter.
What the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth.
Fame like a wayward girl, will still be coy – To those who woo her with too slavish knees
He ne’er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.