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Energy is an eternal delight.
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As a man is, so he sees. As the eye is formed, such are its powers.
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Can I see a falling tear, And not feel my sorrow's share?
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The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.
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Pride is a personal commitment. It is an attitude which separates excellence from mediocrity.
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Such, such were the joys When we all, girls and boys, In our youth time were seen On the Echoing Green.
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I was in a Printing-house in Hell, and saw the method in which knowledge is transmitted from generation to generation.
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What is a wife and what is a harlot? What is a church and what is a theatre? are they two and not one? Can they exist separate? Are not religion and politics the same thing? Brotherhood is religion. O demonstrations of reason dividing families in cruelty and pride!
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To some people a tree is something so incredibly beautiful that it brings tears to the eyes. To others it is just a green thing that stands in the way.
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Painters are noted for being dissipated and wild.
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He who shall hurt the little wren Shall never be beloved by men.
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If others had not been foolish, we should be so.
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To the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.
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Where others see but the dawn coming over the hill, I see the soul of God shouting for joy.
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To Mercy, Pity, Peace and Love All pray in their distress, And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness.
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Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
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Mere enthusiasm is the all in all.
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O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest, And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe; And all the daughters of the year shall dance! Sing now the lusty song of fruit and flowers.
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If a thing loves, it is infinite.
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Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius.
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Art is the tree of life. Science is the tree of death.
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Nature in darkness groans and men are bound to sullen contemplation in the night: restless they turn on beds of sorrow; in their inmost brain feeling the crushing wheels, they rise, they write the bitter words of stern philosophy and knead the bread of knowledge with tears and groans.
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She who dwells with me whom I have loved with such communion, that no place on earth can ever be solitude to me.
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Knowledge of ideal beauty is not to be acquired. It is born with us. Innate ideas are in every man, born with him; theyare truly himself.