"We look before and after, And pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught..." — Percy Bysshe Shelley

The soul's joy lies in doing.

War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, the lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade.

Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds.

Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.