The automobile changed our dress, manners, social customs, vacation habits, the shape of our cities, consumer purchasing patterns, common tastes and positions in intercourse

What occasions the greater part of the world's quarrels? Simply this: Two minds meet and do not understand each other in time enough to prevent any shock of surprise at the conduct of either party

Mortality weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep

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

A poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence, because he has no identity - he is continually informing and filling some other body

Four seasons fill the measure of the year; there are four seasons in the mind of man

There is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object

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

I have never yet been able to perceive how anything can be known for truth by consecutive reasoning - and yet it must be

Negative capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.

Are there not thousands in the world who love their fellows even to the death, who feel the giant agony of the world, and more, like slaves to poor humanity, labor for mortal good?

I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections, and the truth of imagination.

The poetry of the earth is never dead

If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree, it had better not come at all

I wish to beleave in immortality, I wish to live with you forever.

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains, my sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk

The Public is a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility

The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children

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