He ne'er is crown'd With immortality, who fears to follow Where airy voices lead. - John Keats

I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.

I go amongst the buildings of a city and I see a Man hurrying along - to what?

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs.