Love has no errors, for all errors are the want for love. >>
Love and pity and wish well to every soul in the world; dwell in love, >>
Nothing hath separated us from God but our own will, or rather our own >>
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the l >>
I know no subject more elevating, more amazing, more ready to the poet >>
All things are artificial, for nature is the art of God. >>
All that is sweet, delightful, and amiable in this world, in the serenity of the air, the fineness of seasons, the joy of light, the melody of sounds, the beauty of colors, the fragrancy of smells, the splendor our precious stones, is nothing else but Heaven breaking through the veil of this world, manifesting itself in such a degree and darting forth in such variety so much of its own nature.