On Love:
O Rose, thou art sick The invisible worm, That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy, And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.
They suppose that Woman’s Love is Sin in consequence all the Loves Graces with them are Sin.
I thought Love lived in the hot sunshine,But O, he lives in the moony lightI thought to find Love in the heat of day,But sweet Love is the comforter of night.
On Life:
His whole life is an epigram smart, smooth and neatly penned, Plaited quite neat to catch applause, with a hang noose at the end.
On Happiness:
Fun I love, but too much fun is of all things the most loathsome. Mirth is better than fun, and happiness is better than mirth.
Some say that happiness is not good for mortals, they ought to be answered that sorrow is not fit for immortals is utterly useless to any one a blight never does good to a tree, if a blight kill not a tree but it still bear fruit, let none say that the fruit was in consequence of the blight.
On Courage:
The weak in courage is strong in cunning.
On Knowledge:
The true method of knowledge is experiment.
I was in a Printing-house in Hell, and saw the method in which knowledge is transmitted from generation to generation.
On God:
That the Jews assumed a right exclusively to the benefits of God will be a lasting witness against them and the same will it be against Christians.
Where mercy, love, and pity dwell, there God is dwelling too.
God appears, and God is Light,To those poor souls who dwell in Night,But does a human form displayTo those who dwell in realms of day.
On Christianity:
The glory of Christianity is to conquer by forgiveness.
Christianity is art and not money. Money is its curse.