I Have Imbibed Such A Love For

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

Fills The Air Around With Beauty.

Kill A Man's Family, And He May Brook It, But Keep Your Hands Out Of His Breeches' Pocket.

All Tragedies Are Finished By A Death, All Comedies Are Ended By A Marriage.

The Image Of Eternity--the Throne Of The Invisible; Even From Out Thy Slime The Monsters Of The Deep Are Made; Each Zone Obeys Thee; Thou Goest Forth, Dread, Fathomless, Alone.