No One Can Usurp The Heights... But

Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast As Thou Art-- Not In Lone Splendour Hung Aloft The Night And Watching, With Eternal Lids Apart, Like Nature's Patient, Sleepless Eremite.

A Little Noiseless Noise Among The Leaves, Born Of The Very Sigh That Silence Heaves.

For Axioms In Philosophy Are Not Axioms Until They Are Proved Upon Our Pulses.

I Compare Human Life To A Large Mansion Of Many Apartments, Two Of Which I Can Only Describe, The Doors Of The Rest Being As Yet Shut Upon Me.

Pleasure Is Oft A Visitant; But Pain Clings Cruelly To Us.