After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs.
There is no ghost so difficult to lay as the ghost of an injury.
There is no Frigate like a book to take us lands away nor any coursers like a page of prancing Poetry.
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry.
By what criterion… can we distinguish among the numberless effects, that are also causes, and among the causes that may, for aught we can know, be also effects, – how can we distinguish which are the means and which are the ends?
I’m nobody, who are you?
Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.
To sit for one’s portrait is like being present at one’s own creation.
Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.
Trifles make up the happiness or the misery of human life.