"It’s a cauld barren blast that blaws nobody good.” - title of poem

"But he'll ne'er wake us mair, "For Hughie is deid" - Elegy on Wee Hughie - A Pet Canary

"Thou representative of something great, What wert thou in thine unconverted state?" - Reflections on a Banknote

"Lust is the offspring of a thousand sighs, "Intrigue, deception, and as many lies; "A strange compound of hidden, plotting ill, "To fire with rage, to torture, or to kill" -Lust

"I knew him, ere the roots of bitterness "Had grown to putrid cancer in his soul. "Then Revelation's light gleamed o'er his mind "In strange fantastic dreams of future bliss, "He saw the dawn, and this was quite enough

The language of poetry is the only speech which has in it the power of permanent impression

Every poet is partly creator and partly the creature of circumstances.