The past is a pebble in my shoe
To vilify a great man is the readiest way in which a little man can himself attain greatness
Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive
Believe only half of what you see and nothing that you hear
All that we see and seem is but a dream within a dream
Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence
Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words
I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat
Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality
