We are slumberous poppies, Lords of Lethe downs, Some awake and some asleep, Sleeping in our crowns. What perchance our dreams may know, Let our serious may know. - Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt),

Central depth of purple, Leaves more bright than rose, Who shall tell what brightest thought Out of darkness grows? Who, through what funereal pain, Souls to love and peace attain? - Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt),

An exquisite invention this, Worthy of Love's most honeyed kiss,-- This art of writing billet-doux-- In buds, and odors, and bright hues! In saying all one feels and thinks In clever daffodils and pinks; In puns of tulips; and in phrases, Charming for their truth, of daisies.

Wit is the clash and reconcilement of incongruities; the meeting of extremes round a corner.

Patience and Gentleness is Power. - Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt),

Yon second-hand bookseller is second to none in the worth of the treasures which he dispenses.