We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author.

Should ever the fine-eyed maid to me be kind; Ah! surely it must be whenever I find; Some flowery spot, sequestered, wild, romantic; That often must have seen a poet frantic.

Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.

Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity, it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.

I've gone full circle and I'll probably stop here.

I feel I have come full circle.