Beware, William of Mercia, you heeded not our warnings and you can no longer turn back, but the path ahead is strewn with danger, to you, and to those who travel with you. This is but the beginning. The legions of the underworld await you, armies will seek to destroy you, but only you can know the true course.
And on the pedestal these words appear:_'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:__ook on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'__othing beside remains. Round the decay__f that colossal wreck, boundless and bare__he lone and level sands stretch far away.
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And on the pedestal these words appear:_'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:__ook on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'__othing beside remains. Round the decay__f that colossal wreck, boundless and bare__he lone and level sands stretch far away.
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From even the greatest of horrors irony is seldom absent.
Fate would never permit happiness to a man of such talent-a content poet is a mediocre one, a happy poet is insufferable.
it was dawning on me how uphill a poet's path was, and I confessed to her that if I had to be the choice between being happy or being a poet, I'd choose to be happy.
The mind that becomes soiled in youth can never again be washed clean. I know this by my own experience, & to this day I cherish an unappeased bitterness against the unfaithful guardians of my young life, who not only permitted but compelled me to read an unexpurgated Bible through before I was 15 years old. None can do that and ever draw a clean sweet breath again on this side of the grave.
I did it thirty-five minutes ago.