Only nature knows how to justly proportion to the fault the punishment it deserves.
Soul meets soul on lovers' lips.
Reason respects the differences, and imagination the similitudes of things.
Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted.
Revenge is the naked idol of the worship of a semi-barbarous age.
History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Twin-sister of Religion, Selfishness.
The great instrument of moral good is the imagination.
Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.
Death is the veil which those who live call life They sleep, and it is lifted.
Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.
Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.
Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.
Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.
War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, the lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade.
Is it not odd that the only generous person I ever knew, who had money to be generous with, should be a stockbroker.
In a drama of the highest order there is little food for censure or hatred it teaches rather self-knowledge and self-respect.