Det. Danny Fisher: I'm training the world's most dominant pug. He's going through a bulking phase.
In beauty of face no maiden ever equaled her. It was the radiance of an opium-dream - an airy and spirit-lifting vision more wildly divine than the fantasies which hovered about the slumbering souls of the daughters of Delos.
This maiden she lived with no other thoughtThan to love and be loved by me.
Man's real life is happy, chiefly because he is ever expecting that it soon will be so.
They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
Music, when combined with a pleasurable idea, is poetry; music, without the idea, is simply music; the idea, without the music, is prose, from its very definitiveness.
That which you mistake for madness is but an overacuteness of the senses.
It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream.
Yes I now feel that it was then on that evening of sweet dreams- that the very first dawn of human love burst upon the icy night of my spirit. Since that period I have never seen nor heard your name without a shiver half of delight half of anxiety.
I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect - in terror.
Come little children I'll take thee away, into a land of Enchantment Come little children the time's come to play here in my garden of Shadows Follow sweet children I'll show thee the way through all the pain and the Sorrows Weep not poor childlen for life is this way murdering beauty and Passions H
That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful.
Finally on Sunday morning, October 7, 1849, "He became quiet and seemed to rest for a short time. Then, gently, moving his head," he said, "Lord help my poor soul." As he had lived so he died-in great misery and tragedy.
It may well be doubted whether human ingenuity can construct an enigma... which human ingenuity may not, by proper application, resolve.
...that fitful strain of melancholy which will ever be found inseperable from the perfection of the beautiful.
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!â€ Quoth the raven, â€œNevermore.
Believe only half of what you see and nothing that you hear.
It is a happiness to wonder; -- it is a happiness to dream.
You will observe that the stories told are all about money-seekers, not about money-finders.
There is an eloquence in true enthusiasm
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary. Edgar Allan