But The Rose Leaves Herself Upon The

Knowledge Enormous Makes A God Of Me.

To Bear All Naked Truths, And To Envisage Circumstance, All Calm, That Is The Top Of Sovereignty

A Poet Is The Most Unpoetical Of Anything In Existence; Because He Has No Identity He Is Continually Informing And Filling Some Other Body.

When It Is Moving On Luxurious Wings, The Soul Is Lost In Pleasant Smotherings.

I Should Write For The Mere Yearning And Fondness I Have For The Beautiful, Even If My Night's Labors Should Be Burnt Every Morning And No Eye Shine Upon Them.