The fancy is indeed no other than a mode of memory emancipated from the order of time and space.
There are three classes into which all the women past seventy that ever I knew were to be divided: 1. That dear old soul; 2. That old woman; 3. That old witch.
The author of Biographia Literaria was already a ruined man. Sometimes, however, to be a "ruined man" is itself a vocation.