“As the Swiss inscription says: “Speech is silvern, Silence is golden;” or, as I might rather express it, Speech is of Time, Silence is of Eternity.”

Beauty is truth, truth beauty,-that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.

Death is Life’s high meed.

Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.

You have absorb’d me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.

I wish you could invent some means to make me at all happy without you. Every hour I am more and more concentrated in you; everything else tastes like chaff in my mouth.

Touch has a memory. O say, love say, What can I do to kill it and be free In my old liberty?

Hear ye not the hum Of mighty workings?

Is there another Life? Shall I awake and find all this a dream? There must be we cannot be created for this sort of suffering.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.

Many have original minds who do not think it – they are led away by custom!

Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.

That queen of secrecy, the violet.

Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight; With wings of gentle flush o’er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.

One of the most mysterious of semi-speculations is, one would suppose, that of one Mind’s imagining into another

I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.