Reason respects the differences, and imagination the similitudes of things. - Percy Bysshe Shelley

Love's very pain is sweet, But its reward is in the world divine Which, if not here, it builds beyond the grave.

The Moon

And, like a dying lady lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The moon arose up in the murky east
A white and shapeless mass.

Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?

Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?