“There rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen! There where the long street roars, hath beenThe stillness of the central sea.The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands; They melt like mist, the solid lands,Like clouds they shape themselves and go.”

“The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance from heaven to Earth, from Earth to heaven; and as imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, the poet's pen turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name; such tricks hath strong imagination.”

“A thick, intense fog was rolling in from the ocean, which created long, strange shadows to form like creatures of their own kind.”

“The survivors ran through the fields, escapingFrom themselves, knowing they wouldn't returnFor a hundred years. Before them were spreadThose quicksands where a tree changes into nothing,Into an anti-tree, where no borderlineSeparates a shape from a shape, and where,Amid thunder, the golden house of isCollapses, and the word becoming ascends.”

“The mist starts to form as we stand close to one another. It is a distant fog that rises from the horizon, and I find that I grow fearful as it approaches. It slowly creeps in, enveloping the world around us, fencing us in as if to prevent escape. Like a rolling cloud, it blankets everything, closing, until there is nothing left but the two of us.”

“O God as Thou hast made my form beautiful so make my character beautiful.”