Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and bloo… - William Wordsworth

Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,
Are a substantial world, both pure and good.

Before me begging did she stand, Pouring out sorrows like a sea; Grief after grief: — on English Land Such woes I knew could never be; And yet a boon I gave her; for the Creature Was beautiful to see; a Weed of glorious feature!

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come

A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.