“The cloud of mind is discharging its collected lightning.”

“We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,Streaking the darkness radiantly!--yet soonNight closes round, and they are lost for ever;Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant stringsGive various response to each varying blast,To whose frail frame no second motion bringsOne mood or modulation like the last.We rest. -- A dream has power to poison sleep;We rise. -- One wandering thought pollutes the day;We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away:It is the same!--For, be it joy or sorrow,The path of its departure still is free:Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;Nought may endure but Mutability.”

“Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.”

“Kiss me, so long but as a kiss may last!”

“The great instrument of moral good is the imagination.”

“Oh,lift me as a wave,a leaf,a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life!I bleed!”

“The everlasting universe of thingsFlows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom--Now lending splendour, where from secret springsThe source of human thought its tribute brings.”