Samuel Taylor Coleridge

That saints will aid if men will call; For the blue sky bends over all!

My eyes make pictures when they are shut.

You do not believe, you only believe that you believe.

Why are not more gems from our great authors scattered over the country . . . .Let every bookworm, when in any fragrant, scarce, old tome he discovers a sentence, a story, an illustration, that does his heart good, hasten to give it.

Our own heart, and not other men's opinions, forms our true honor.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.

Common sense, in an uncommon degree, is what the world calls wisdom.

The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out: At one stride comes the dark; With far-heard whisper o'er the sea, Off shot the spectre-bark.

The light which experience gives us is a lantern on the stern which shines only on the waves behind us.

Carv'd with figures strange and sweet, All made out of the carver's brain.