The Nightmare Life-in-death Was She.

Dryden 's Genius Was Of That Sort Which Catches Fire By Its Own Motion; His Chariot Wheels Get Hot By Driving Fast.

The Fancy Is Indeed No Other Than A Mode Of Memory Emancipated From The Order Of Time And Space.

Heart-chilling Superstition! Thou Canst Glaze Even Pity's Eye With Her Own Frozen Tear.

O Let Me Be Awake, My God! Or Let Me Sleep Alway.

To Believe And To Understand Are Not Diverse Things, But The Same Things In Different Periods Of Growth.