My mother groaned, my father wept, into the dangerous world I leapt; helpless, naked, piping loud, like a fiend hid in a cloud. – William Blake
Great things are done when men and mountains meet. This is not done by jostling in the street. – William Blake
What a strange thing is the propagation of life! A bubble of seed which may be spilt in a whores lap, or in the orgasm of a voluptuous dream, might (for aught we know) have formed a Caesar or a Bonaparte — there is nothing remarkable recorded of their sires, that I know of. – Lord (George Gordon) Byron