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