I fear thee, ancient Mariner! / I fear thy skinny hand!

It was a miracle of rare device, a sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A great poet must have the ear of a wild Arab listening in the silent desert, the eye of a North American Indian tracing the footsteps of an enemy upon the leaves that strew the forest, the touch of a blind man feeling the face of a darling child.

No man does anything from a single motive

Imagination is the living power and prime agent of all human perception.

Language is the armory of the human mind, and at once contains the trophies of its past and the weapons of its future conquests