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Kindle Notes & Highlights
If a man could pass through Paradise in a dream, and have a flower presented to him as a pledge that his soul had really been there, and if he found that flower in his hand when he awoke — Aye, and what then? —S. T. Coleridge, Anima Poetae
He, in his private imaginings, was power besieged, and seduced, and finally — painfully — martyred.
Life and wisdom. What more could anybody ask?
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep. — Robert Frost Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
