Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rude And fled to the silence of sweet solitude. - John Clare

I find more pleasure in wandering the fields than in musing among my silent neighbours who are insensible to everything but toiling and talking of it and that to no purpose.

This world has suns, but they are overcast; This world has sweets, but they're of ling'ring bloom; Life still expects, and empty falls at last; Warm Hope on tiptoe drops into the tomb.

Throw not my words away, as many do; They're gold in value, though they're cheap to you.