"At once it struck me what quality went to form a man of achievement, especially in literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously — I mean negative capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason."

"The excellency of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeables evaporate, from their being in close relationship with beauty and truth."

"I scarcely remember counting upon happiness — I look not for it if it be not in the present hour — nothing startles me beyond the moment. The setting sun will always set me to rights, or if a sparrow come before my Window I take part in its existence and pick about the gravel."

"O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!"

"The imagination may be compared to Adam's dream — he awoke and found it truth."

"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections and the truth of imagination — what the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth — whether it existed before or not."

"My chest of books divide amongst my friends."

"Here lies one whose name was writ in water."

"To his sight The husk of natural objects opens quite To the core; and every secret essence there Reveals the elements of good and fair; Making him see, where Learning hath no light."

"The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone! Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast."

"None can usurp this height... But those to whom the miseries of the world Are misery, and will not let them rest."

"Bright star! would I were stedfast as thou art — Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores."

"This living hand, now warm and capable Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold And in the icy silence of the tomb, So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood So in my veins red life might stream again, And thou be conscience-calm'd — see here it is — I hold it towards you."

"Shed no tear! O shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Weep no more! O weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root's white core."

"When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high piled books, in charact'ry, Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain; When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour! That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love! — then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink."

"It keeps eternal whisperings around Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell Gluts twice ten thousand Caverns, till the spell Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound."

"But were there ever any Writh'd not of passed joy? The feel of not to feel it, When there is none to heal it, Nor numbed sense to steel it, Was never said in rhyme."

"In drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity."

"My spirit is too weak — mortality Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep, And each imagin'd pinnacle and steep Of godlike hardship tells me I must die Like a sick Eagle looking at the sky."

"Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song."

"To each his suff'rings: all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan, The tender for another's pain; Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should they know their fate? Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies. Thought would destroy their paradise. No more; where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise."

"Grim-visaged comfortless Despair."

"Ah, tell them they are men!"

"Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond today."

"Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, Less pleasing when possest; The tear forgot as soon as shed, The sunshine of the breast."

"Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy."

"Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields beloved in vain! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow."

"Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, That crown the wat'ry glade."

"Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the good how far,—but far above the great."

"Hark, his hands the lyre explore! Bright-eyed Fancy hovering o'er Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn."

"He passed the flaming bounds of place and time: The living throne, the sapphire-blaze, Where angels tremble, while they gaze, He saw; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night."

"Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears."

"Far from the sun and summer-gale, In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid."

"Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame, Th' unconquerable mind, 3 and freedom's holy flame."

"O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love."

"Glance their many-twinkling feet."

"From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take."

"From toil he wins his spirits light, From busy day the peaceful night; Rich, from the very want of wealth, In heaven's best treasures, peace and health."

"And hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast and calm repose."

"See the wretch that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again: The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise."

"Behind the steps that Misery treads Approaching Comfort view: The hues of bliss more brightly glow Chastised by sabler tints of woe, And blended form, with artful strife, The strength and harmony of life."

"Now as the Paradisiacal pleasures of the Mahometans consist in playing upon the flute and lying with Houris, be mine to read eternal new romances of Marivaux and Crebillon."

"When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes."

"The social smile, the sympathetic tear."

"Rich windows that exclude the light, And passages that lead to nothing."

"And weep the more, because I weep in vain."

"Sweet is the breath of vernal shower, The bee's collected treasures sweet, Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet The still small voice of gratitude."

"While bright-eyed Science watches round."