Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

• There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar I love not Man the less, but Nature more.
• Yes, Love indeed is light from heaven A spark of that immortal fire With angels shared, by Allah given To lift from earth our low desire.
• Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.
• I shall soon be six-and-twenty. Is there anything in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five.
• I feel my immortality over sweep all pains, all tears, all time, all fears, - and peal, like the eternal thunders of the deep, into my ears, this truth, - thou livest forever
• There is something Pagan in me that I cannot shake off. In short, I deny nothing, but doubt everything.
• It is odd but agitation or contest of any kind gives a rebound to my spirits and sets me up for a time.
• He who is only just is cruel. Who on earth could live were all judged justly
• Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
• Now hatred is by far the longest pleasure men love in haste but they detest at leisure.