The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.
My chest of books divide amongst my friends.
And when thou art weary I'll find thee a bed, Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head.
Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.
Health is my expected heaven.
Every fresh experience points out some form of error which we shall afterwards carefully avoid.
What is there in thee, Moon! That thou should'st move My heart so potently?
A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music.
I wish to believe in immortality-I wish to live with you forever.
Beauty is truth, truth beauty
There is a budding morrow in midnight.
I have nothing to speak of but my self-and what can I say but what I feel.
We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author.
My mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it.... I never felt my mind repose upon anything with complete and undistracted enjoyment- upon no person but you. When you are in the room my thoughts never fly out of window: you always concentrate my whole senses
Don't be discouraged by a failure. It can be a positive experience.
There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.
You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.
I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.
Every mental pursuit takes its reality and worth from the ardour of the pursuer.
I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of the Imagination – What the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth – whether it existed before or not – for I have the same Idea of all our Passions as of Love they are all in their sublime, creative of essential Beauty . . .
It ought to come like the leaves to the trees, or it better not come at all.
I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.
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