That day she put our heads together, Fate had her imagination about her, Your head so much concerned with outer, Mine with inner, weather.

Tree at my window, window tree, My sash is lowered when night comes on; But let there never be curtain drawn Between you and me.

One luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night.

You could not tell, and yet it looked as if The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff, The cliff in being backed by continent; It looked as if a night of da…

Dreaming is not merely an act of communication; it is also an aesthetic activity, a game of the imagination, a game that is a value in itself.

Castles in the air - they are so easy to take refuge in. And so easy to build, too.

Those who are clever in imagination are far more pleased with themselves than prudent men could reasonably be.