It always makes me proud to love the world somehow — hate's so easy compared.

O that our dreamings all$$$ of sleep or wake$$$ would all their colours from the sunset take.

The feel of not to feel it$$$<br/>When there is none to heal it<br/>Nor numbed sense to steel it$$$<br/>Was never said in rhyme.

For axioms in philosophy are not axioms until they are proved upon our pulses.

Where are the songs of Spring? Aye$$$ where are they? Think not of them; thou has thy music too.

One of the most mysterious of semi-speculations is$$$ one would suppose$$$ that of one Mind's imagining into another.

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.

Two souls with but a single thought$$$<br/>Two hearts that beat as one!

All our knowledge begins with the senses$$$ proceeds then to the understanding$$$ and ends with reason. There is nothing higher than reason.

All I am is literature$$$ and I am not able or willing to be anything else.