Souls of poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern Have ye tippled drink more fine Than mine host's Canary wine
Souls of poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern Have ye tippled drink more fine Than mine host's Canary wine
The imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man is healthy but there is a space of life between, in which the soul is in a ferment, the character undecided, the way of life uncertain, the ambition thick-sighted thence proceeds mawkishness.
Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject.
Literature is the Thought of thinking Souls.
Why wilt thou affright a feeble soul?
Every man whose soul is not a clod Hath visions.
Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories