Your sex have such a surprising animosity against one another, when you do differ.

Detestation of the high is the involuntary homage of the low.

Minds, like bodies, will often fall into a pimpled, ill-conditioned state from mere excess of comfort.

I have a heart to be stabbed in or shot in, I have no doubt, and, of course, if it ceased to beat, I would cease to be. But you know what I mean. I have no softness there, no—sympathy—sentiment—nonsense.

I wear the chain I forged in life....I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.

There was a frosty rime upon the trees, which, in the faint light of the clouded moon, hung upon the smaller branches like dead garlands.

Then I'm sorry to say, I've eat your pie.