Now, to read poetry at all is to have an ideal anthology of one's own, and in that possession to be incapable of content with the anthologies of all the world besides.

beyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the horror of the shade

It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll; I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.

Men may scoff, and men may pray, But they pay Every pleasure with a pain.

Life is worth Living Through every grain of it, From the foundations To the last edge Of the cornerstone, death.

So many are the deaths we die Before we can be dead indeed.

Here is the ghost Of a summer that lived for us, Ere is a promise Of summer to be.

Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Open your heart and take us in, Love-love and me.

Were I so tall as to reach the pole or grasp the ocean at a span, I must be measured by my soul. The mind is the standard of the man.

Night with her train of stars And her great gift of sleep.

If you love yourself, you will be happy because you will always have your own company and attention

...it is easy not to believe in monsters, considerably more difficult to escape their dread and loathsome clutches.

The creator does not create only for the pleasure of creating but . . . he also desires to subdue other minds.

The doors of hell are locked from the inside!

I'm sort of like a rat in a maze - I'm moving forward, and any choice I make at the time seems like the only one I can make.

Dialogue is easy. It's what you've been doing almost every day, most of your life.

Like it or not, males have a tendency to wander a little bit. What you want to do is make a home so wonderful that he doesn’t want to wander.

Must not all things at the last be swallowed up in death?

Man has free choice, or otherwise counsels, exhortations, commands, prohibitions, rewards and punishments would be in vain.

Power is pleasure; and pleasure sweetens pain.