The depth lies in the valleys where we seek her, and not upon the mountain-tops where she is found.
The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, went envying her and me.
That what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses?
That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful.
Sound loves to revel in a summer night.
So violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.
So strictly comparative is either good or ill.
So lovely was the loneliness of a wild lake.
Sleep in peace! for the Spirit of Love reigneth and ruleth.
Sensations are the great things after all. Should you ever be drowned or hung, be sure and make a note of your sensations – they will be worth to you ten guineas a sheet.
Perhaps it is the very simplicity of the thing which puts you at fault.
