Joy and woe are woven fine, A clothing for the soul divine. Under every grief and pine Runs a joy with silken twine.
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand.
To see a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wildflower.
To Chloe's breast young Cupid slily stole, But he crept in at Myra's pocket-hole.
Man has no Body distinct from his Soul; for that called Body is a portion of Soul discerned by the five Senses, the chief inlets of Soul in this age.
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.
Abstinence sows sand all over The ruddy limbs and flaming hair, But desire gratified Plants fruits of life and beauty there.
What is grand is necessarily obscure to weak men. That which can be made explicit to the idiot is not worth my care.
The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.
The eagle never lost so much time as when he submitted to learn of the crow
O Rose, thou art sick! The invisible worm, That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy; And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy
His whole life is an epigram smart, smooth and neatly penned, Plaited quite neat to catch applause, with a hang noose at the end
The Sick Rose O Rose, thou art sick. The invisible worm That flies in the night In the howling storm Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy, And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.
This life's dim windows of the soul Distorts the heavens from pole to pole And leads you to believe a lie When you see with, not through, the eye.
In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors.
For everything that lives is holy, life delights in life.
He who binds to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy; But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity's sun rise.
If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.