Pensive they sit$$$ and roll their languid eyes.

The air is all softness.

I will clamber through the clouds and exist.

Was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music — do I wake or sleep?

You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.

You cannot conceive how I ache to be with you: how I would die for one hour.

Death was in the atmosphere. Only the yellow weeds in the meadow were excited by living.

He was pleasantly hysterical like a young girl at a wedding.

But although all our knowledge begins with experience$$$ it does not follow that it arises from experience.

Simply to acquiesce in skepticism can never suffice to overcome the restlessness of reason.