I see / The lost are like this, and their scourge to be / As I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse.

The effect of studying masterpieces is to make me admire and do otherwise.

It is a happy thing that there is no royal road to poetry. The world should know by this time that one cannot reach Parnassus except by flying thither.

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

Up above, what wind walks! What lovely behavior of silk-sack clouds has wilder, wilful, wavier, meal-drift molded over and melted across skies!

The achieve of, the mastery of the thing!