“Death is Life’s high meed.”

Even bees, the little almsmen of spring bowers, know there is richest juice in poison-flowers.

Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.

We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author.

O aching time! O moments big as years!

Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave a paradise for a sect.

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.

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.

If we have power, we’ll never give it up again unless we’re carried out of our offices as corpses.

To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.

In England, one without a trace of Royalty will master. Twenty months he will rule; twenty months he will bleed the lands, then his end comes quickly.

If patterns of ones and zeros were ‘like’ patterns of human lives and death, if everything about an individual could be represented in a computer record by a long string of ones and zeros, then what kind of creature would be represented by a long string of lives and deaths?

I’m not bitter. Why should I be bitter? I’m thrilled to death with life.

You have left me so long to struggle against death, alone, that I feel and see only death! I feel like death!

I find by my calculations, which are according to revealed inspiration, that the sword of death is now approaching us, in the shape of pestilence, war more horrible than has been known in three lifetimes, and famine.

I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me.