Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.
The present is all the ready money Fate can give.
Plenty, as well as Want, can separate friends.
It is a hard and nice subject for a man to speak of himself: it grates his own heart to say anything of disparagement, and the reader's ear to hear anything of praise from him.
Build yourself a book-nest to forget the world without.
Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!