Why I came here – I know not – where I shall go it is useless to enquire – in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds – stars – systems – infinity – why should I be anxious about an atom?
Yes, Love indeed is light from heaven, a spark of that immortal fire with angels shared, by Alla given, to lift from earth our low desire.
Wordsworth – stupendous genius! Damned fool! These poets run about their ponds though they cannot fish.
What should I have known or written had I been a quiet, mercantile politician or a lord in waiting? A man must travel, and turmoil, or there is no existence.
We have progressively improved into a less spiritual species of tenderness – but the seal is not yet fixed though the wax is preparing for the impression.