“I cast my heart into my rhymes, That you, in the dim coming times, May know how my heart went with them After the red-rose-bordered hem.”

Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot; but make it hot by striking.

Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast, Drowning love’s lonely hour in deep twilight of rest.

I have observed dreams and visions very carefully, and am now certain that the imagination has some way of lighting on the truth that the reason has not, and that its commandments, delivered when the body is still and the reason silent, are the most binding we can ever know.

An intellectual hate is the worst.

The visible world is no longer a reality and the unseen world no longer a dream.

Myself I must remake.

Everything that’s lovely is But a brief, dreamy kind of delight.

Any fool can fight a winning battle, but it needs character to fight a losing one, and that should inspire us; which reminds me that I dreamed the other night that I was being hanged, but was the life and soul of the party.

Joy is of the will which labours, which overcomes obstacles, which knows triumph.

Choose your companions from the best; Who draws a bucket with the rest soon topples down the hill.

What man does not understand, he fears; and what he fears, he tends to destroy.

It takes more courage to dig deep in the dark corners of your own soul and the back alleys of your society than it does for a soldier to fight on the battlefield.

I believe that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.

Hammer your thoughts into unity.

I heard the old, old, men say ‘all that’s beautiful drifts away, like the waters.’

We taste and feel and see the truth. We do not reason ourselves into it.

Kill those harmful butterflies in your heart, before it kill you.

Hold her hand if you like but she’ll rather you hold her heart.

Never mess with a poets heart for they know how to turn broken pieces in a written masterpiece of art.

Our love is poetry oozing from our hearts spilling onto bedsheets and tearing us apart. Our love was always meant to be a journey through the cosmos for eternity.

I miss him whispers my mind he left you screams my heart.

Allow your heart to be soft and kind.

What is the heart but a spring, and the nerves but so many strings, and the joints but so many wheels, giving motion to the whole body?

Ask me about the time you broke my heart and I’ll tell you how I put it back together again.