I Do Detest Everything Which Is Not

Many Are Poets, But Without The Name;for What Is Poesy But To Createfrom Overfeeling Good Or Ill; And Aimat An External Life Beyond Our Fate,and Be The New Prometheus Of New Men,bestowing Fire From Heaven, And Then, Too Late,finding The Pleasure Given Repaid With Pain

Oh, Christ! It Is A Goodly Sight To See What Heaven Hath Done For This Delicious Land!

Are Not The Mountains, Waves, And Skies As Much A Part Of Me, As I Of Them?

Tis Said That Persons Living On Annuities Are Longer Lived Than Others.

The Busy Have No Time For Tears.