“The poetry of earth is never dead When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide I cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead.”

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.

Every fresh experience points out some form of error which we shall afterwards carefully avoid.

Where the nightingale doth sing Not a senseless, tranced thing, But divine melodious truth.

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?

Love is my religion – I could die for it.

Gun violence is real. People don’t come back.

If it has to choose who is to be crucified, the crowd will always save Barabbas.

After the writer’s death, reading his journal is like receiving a long letter.

Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

You can fight against people, and fight to the death, but can’t control the world.

Live and die in Aristotle’s works.

You have to forget about what other people say, when you’re supposed to die, or when you’re supposed to be loving. You have to forget about all these things.

If penicillin can cure those that are ill, Spanish sherry can bring the dead back to life.