"O thou sophist, Man! Reason by reason proved unreasonable Continues reasoning still! Confronted close, What is this reason? Like the peacock's tail, Just useful for a flourish, nothing more; And when 'tis down, the world goes on the same."

"In vain would science scan and trace Firmly her aspect. All the while, There gleams upon her far-off face A vague unfathomable smile."

"If Nature built by rule and square, Than man what wiser would she be? What wins us is her careless care, And sweet unpunctuality."

"Doth Nature draw me, 'tis because, Unto my seeming, there doth lurk A lawlessness about her laws, More mood than purpose in her work."

"Why from the plain truth should I shrink? In woods men feel; in towns they think. Yet, which is best? Thought, stumbling, plods Past fallen temples, vanished gods, Altars unincensed, fanes undecked, Eternal systems flown or wrecked; Through trackless centuries that grant To the poor trudge refreshment scant, Age after age, pants on to find A melting mirage of the mind. But feeling never wanders far, Content to fare with things that are."

"I love the doubt, the dark, the fear, That still surroundeth all things here. I love the mystery, nor seek to solve; Content to let the stars revolve, Nor ask to have their meaning clear. Enough for me, enough to feel; To let the mystic shadows steal Into a land whither I cannot follow. To see the stealthy sunlight leave Dewy dingle, dappled hollow; To watch, when falls the hour of eve, Quiet shadows on a quiet hill; To watch, to wonder, and be still."

"My virgin sense of sound was steeped In the music of young streams; And roses through the casement peeped, And scented all my dreams."

"[…] faded smiles oft linger in the face, While grief's first flakes fall silent on the head!"

"Life seems like a haunted wood, where we tremble and crouch and cry."

"So, timely you came, and well you chose, You came when most needed, my winter rose. From the snow I pluck you, and fondly press Your leaves 'twixt the leaves of my leaflessness."

"Who loves his country never forfeits heaven."

"Never fear to weep; For tears are summer showers to the soul, To keep it fresh and green."

"[…] there is no love, That merits such high christening, but is built Firm upon some foundation out of sight; God, country, virtue, something not ourself, To which ourself is nothing, save the proof Of its invisible sureness."

"Your logic may be good, But dialectics never saved a soul."

"Death is the looking-glass of life wherein Each man may scan the aspect of his deeds."

"Friendship, 'tis said, is love without his wings, And friendship, sir, is sweet enough for me."

"Know, Nature, like the cuckoo, laughs at law, Placing her eggs in whatso nest she will."

"Friendship craves The commerce of the mind, not the exchange Of emulous feasts that foster sycophants."

"Let your house Be spacious more than splendid, and be books And busts your most conspicuous furniture."

"And Clara dies that Claribel may dance."

"Lo, where huge London, huger day by day, O'er six fair counties spreads its hideous sway."

"Then, without toil, by vale and mountain side, Men found their few and simple wants supplied; Plenty, like dew, dropped subtle from the air, And Earth's fair gifts rose prodigal as prayer. Love, with no charms except its own to lure, Was swiftly answered by a love as pure. No need for wealth; each glittering fruit and flower, Each star, each streamlet, made the maiden's dower."

"A garden that one makes oneself becomes associated with one's personal history and that of one's friends, interwoven with one's tastes, preferences, and character, and constitutes a sort of unwritten, but withal manifest autobiography. Show me your garden, provided it be your own, and I will tell you what you are like."

"No one can rightly call his garden his own unless he himself made it."

"Once learn how Nature gardens for herself, and you will be able to spare yourself a good deal of trouble."

"[T]here is no gardening without humility, an assiduous willingness to learn, and a cheerful readiness to admit that you were mistaken. Nature is continually sending even its oldest scholars to the bottom of the class for some egregious blunder."

"Imagination should A reconciler, not a rebel, be, To teach the heart of man to apprehend Nature's vicissitudes, and bear his own, With sympathetic fancy."

"When the foal and broodmare hinny, And in every cut-down spinney Ladysmocks grow mauve and mauver, Then the winter days are over"

"Ah! Whither, whither shall I fly, A poor unhappy Maid; To hopeless Love and Misery By my own Heart betray’d?"

"I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of being dull."

"Hannibal was a very pretty fellow in those days."

"In my conscience I believe the baggage loves me, for she never speaks well of me herself, nor suffers any body else to rail at me."

"Pious Selinda goes to Pray’rs, If I but ask the Favour; And yet the tender Fool’s in Tears, When she believes I’ll leave her.Wou’d I were free from Restraint, Or else had Hopes to win her; Wou’d she cou’d make of me a Saint, Or I of her a Sinner."

"Defer not till tomorrow to be wise, Tomorrow's sun to thee may never rise."

"Invention flags, his brain goes muddy, And black despair succeeds brown study."

"Careless she is with artful care, Affecting to seem unaffected."

"Never go to bed angry, stay up and fight."

"Mr Congreve... would make many brilliant hits – half a dozen in a night sometimes – but like sharpshooters, when they had fired their shot they were obliged to retire under cover till their pieces were loaded again."

"O, she is the antidote to desire."

"Thou art a retailer of phrases, and dost deal in remnants of remnants, like a maker of pincushions; thou art in truth (metaphorically speaking) a speaker of shorthand."

"Let us be very strange and well-bred: Let us be as strange as if we had been married a great while; And as well-bred as if we were not married at all."

"I nauseate walking; 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country."