The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact.

Ignorance is the curse of God knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.

Ignorance is the curse of God knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.