Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion of the truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
Were I called on to define, very briefly, the term Art, I should call it 'the reproduction of what the Senses perceive in Nature through the veil of the soul.' The mere imitation, however accurate, of what is in Nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of 'Artist.'
They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.
With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.
We loved with a love that was more than love.
Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things that escape those who dream only at night.
There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man.
There is an eloquence in true enthusiasm.
There are few cases in which mere popularity should be considered a proper test of merit; but the case of song-writing is, I think, one of the few.
The true genius shudders at incompleteness - and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be.