A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.

Thou art a dreaming thing, A fever of thyself.

Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.

All clean and comfortable I sit down to write.

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

The days of peace and slumberous calm are fled.

My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.

My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.

Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu

A man's life of any worth is a continual allegory.

But were there ever any Writhed not at passed joy?

Works of genius are the first things in the world.

It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores

I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.

I have loved the principle of beauty in all things.

O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!

The genius of Shakespeare was an innate university.

What the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth.

My friends should drink a dozen of Claret on my Tomb.

Where soil is, men grow, Whether to weeds or flowers.

Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.

If something is not beautiful, it is probably not true.

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.

Soft closer of our eyes! Low murmur of tender lullabies!

Many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death.

Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain Clings cruelly to us.

I think I shall be among the English Poets after my death.

The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.

Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.

Open afresh your rounds of starry folds, Ye ardent Marigolds.

I must choose between despair and Energy──I choose the latter.

There is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object.

They swayed about upon a rocking horse, And thought it Pegasus.

Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.

The grandeur of the dooms We have imagined for the mighty dead.

There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music.

On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence.

Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.

So let me be thy choir, and make a moan Upon the midnight hours.

Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.

I wish to believe in immortality-I wish to live with you forever.

Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity.

And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering?

You are always new, the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest.

What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the chameleon poet.

Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.

Don't be discouraged by a failure. It can be a positive experience.

I think we may class the lawyer in the natural history of monsters.

There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.

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