Some Say The World Is A Vale

He Who Saddens At Thought Of Idleness Cannot Be Idle, / And He's Awake Who Thinks Himself Asleep.

I Could Be Martyred For My Religion. Love Is My Religion And I Could Die For That. I Could Die For You.

Closer Of Lovely Eyes To Lovely Dreams, Lover Of Loneliness, And Wandering, Of Upcast Eye, And Tender Pondering! Thee Must I Praise Above All Other Glories That Smile Us On To Tell Delightful Stories.

A Moment's Thought Is Passion's Passing Knell.

O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell, Let It Not Be Among The Jumbled Heap Of Murky Buildings