Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain Clings cruelly to us. - John Keats

And other spirits there are standing apart
Upon the forehead of the age to come;
These, these will give the world another heart,
And other pulses. Hear ye not the hum
Of mighty workings in a distant mart?
Listen awhile ye nations, and be dumb.

I feel more and more every day, as my imagination strengthens, that I do not live in this world alone but in a thousand worlds.

Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?