“If I am fool, it is, at least, a doubting one and I envy no one the certainty of his self-approved wisdom.”
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There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar I love not Man the less, but Nature more.
Shelley is truth itself and honour itself notwithstanding his out-of-the-way notions about religion.
Lovers may be and indeed generally are enemies, but they never can be friends, because there must always be a spice of jealousy and a something of Self in all their speculations.
The best prophet of the future is the past.
