“Till crash! the cruel coulter pastOut thro' thy cell.”
“Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.”
“Thou hast spread Thy arms to embrace far too many,Flinging Thy hands out till they reach the ends of the crossbeam.”
“But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,Making a famine where abundance lies,Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.”
“If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro' narrow chinks of his cavern.”
“Toute intuition sans concept n'aboutit pasTout concept sans intuition est vide”