“Tis the witching hour of night, Orbed is the moon and bright. And the stars they glisten, glisten, Seeming with bright eyes to listen- For what listen they?”

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.

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.

The eyes are the seat of the brain and not the soul. Having a clear eye sight will also result in a bright mind.

Aurora hail, and all the thousand dies, Which deck thy progress through the vaulted skies: The morn awakes, and wide extends her rays, On ev’ry leaf the gentle zephyr plays; Harmonious lays the feather’d race resume, Dart the bright eye, and shake the painted plume.

The blindness of unbelievers in no way detracts from the clarity of the gospel; the sun is no less bright because blind men do not perceive its light.

I set sail eagerly and hungrily on the sea of love, to which there is no end in sight – only bright beginnings.

Everyone claims they want the truth. Just not in all her bright entirety. We’d rather she visit in dim shades of light, that won’t hurt our eyes.

A star that shines the brightest is the one that had to explode the hardest. My love, you are a supernova.

Every freckle, mole, dimple, and scar, shine bright in my body’s constellation of stars.

It dawned on me with blinding brightness. I realized: I had jumped into another rare kind of stratosphere – one that only a handful of people in every generation are lucky enough to know.