Let Man's Soul Be A Sphere, And

For I Am Every Dead Thing In Whom Love Wrought New Alchemy For His Art Did Express A Quintessence Even From Nothingness, From Dull Privations, And Lean Emptiness He Ruined Me, And I Am Re-begot Of Absence, Darkness, Death; Things Which Are Not.

Eternity Is Not An Everlasting Flux Of Time, But Time Is As A Short Parenthesis In A Long Period.

Art Is The Most Passionate Orgy Within Man's Grasp.

Be More Than Man, Or Thou'rt Less Than An Ant.

On A Huge Hill, Cragged, And Steep, Truth Stands, And Hee That Will Reach Her, About Must, And About Must Goo.