When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter " And proved it - 'twas no matter what he said.

She walks in beauty like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

Society is now one polished horde Formed of two mighty tribes the Bores and Bored.

I am not now That which I have been.

A little curly-headed good-for-nothing And mischief-making monkey from his birth.

Christians have burned each other quite persuaded That all the apostles would have done as they did.

He who surpasses or subdues mankind must look down on the hate of those below.

Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell The tortures of that inward hell!

Hereditary boundsmen! Know ye not Who would be free themselves must strike the blow?

On with the dance! Let joy be unconfin'd No sleep till morn when Youth and Pleasure meet.

Death so called is a thing which makes men weep And yet a third of life is pass'd in sleep.

Though I love my country I do not love my countrymen.

Let us have Wine and Women Mirth and Laughter Sermons and soda-water the day after.

I awoke one morning and found myself famous.

Fare thee well! and if for ever Still for ever fare thee well.

Let us have wine and woman mirth and laughter. Sermons and soda-water the day after.

Friendship is Love without his wings!

Friendship is love without his wings!

Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal though no more though fallen great!

All who would win joy must share it happiness was born a twin.

Maid of Athens ere we part Give oh give me back my heart!

Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell The tortures of that inward hell.

History is the devil's scripture.

Admire exult despise laugh weep - for here There is such matter for all feelings: - Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.

Come lay thy head upon my breast And I will kiss thee into rest.

A long long kiss a kiss of youth and love.

When we think we lead we most are led.

I am never long even in the society of her I love without yearning for the company of my lamp and my library.

A mighty mass of brick and smoke and shipping Dirty and dusty but as wide as eye Could reach with here and there a sail just skipping In sight then lost amidst the forestry Of masts a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy A huge dun cupola like a fools-cap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town.

Man's love is of man's life a thing apart 'Tis woman's whole existence.

And after all what is a lie? Tis but The truth in masquerade.

Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.

He was the mildest manner'd man That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat.

Soprano basso even the contralto Wished him five fathom under the Rialto.

I love not man the less but nature more.

For the night Shows stars and women in a better light.

It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.

Fare thee well! and if for ever Still for ever fare thee well.

The great art of life is sensation to feel that we exist even in pain.

She walks in beauty Like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes.

Gone - glimmering through the dream of things that were.

'Tis very certain the desire of life prolongs it.

Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away.

Smiles form the channels of a future tear.

Society is now one polished horde Formed of two mighty tribes The Bores and the Bored.

If from Society we learn to live Tis Solitude should teach us how to die It hath no flatterers.

In solitude when we are least alone.

The busy have no time for tears.

His speech was a fine sample on the whole Of rhetoric which the learn'd call "rigmarole."

A schoolboy's tale the wonder of an hour.

The "good old times"-all times when old are good.

The past is the best prophet of the future.

Roll on thou deep and dark blue ocean - roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain Man marks the earth with ruin - his control Stops with the shore.

The power of Thought - the magic of the Mind!

Here's a sigh to those who love me And a smile to those who hate And whatever sky's above me Here's a heart for every fate.

'Tis strange - but true for truth is always strange Stranger than fiction.

Tis sweet to hear the watchdog's honest bark Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home.

Think you if Laura had been Petrarch's wife He would have written sonnets all his life?

Few things surpass old wine and they may preach Who please the more because they preach in vain - Let us have wine and women mirth and laughter Sermons and soda-water the day after.

In her first passion woman loves her lover In all the others all she loves is love.

A schoolboy's tale the wonder of an hour!

There is a tide in the affairs of women Which taken at the flood leads - God knows where.

Tis enough - Who listens once will listen twice Her heart be sure is not of ice And one refusal no rebuff.

Letter-writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company.

I have not loved the world nor the world me I have not flatter'd its rank breath nor bow'd To its idolatries a patient knee.

Adversity is the first path to truth.

What deep wounds ever closed without a scar? The hearts bleed longest and but heal to wear That which disfigures it.

Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy!