Read moreThe Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the Graces, but an old, mouldering house, full of gloom and haunted by ghosts.
Read moreThere is nothing holier in this life of ours than the first consciousness of love, the first fluttering of its silken wings.
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As to the pure mind all things are pure, so to the poetic mind all things are poetical.
Read moreThy fate is the common fate of all; Into each life some rain must fall.