I conceive disgust at these impertinent and misbecoming familiarities inscribed upon your ordinary tombstone.

For God's sake (I never was more serious) don't make me ridiculous any more by terming me gentle-hearted in print.

My theory is to enjoy life, but my practice is against it.

We are nothing; less than nothing, and dreams. We are only what might have been.

I am accounted by some people as a good man. How cheap that character is acquired! Pay your debts, don't borrow money, nor twist your kitten's neck off, nor disturb a congregation, etc., your business is done. I know things of myself, which would make every friend I have fly me as a plague patient.

The man must have a rare recipe for melancholy, who can be dull in Fleet Street.

Alas! how light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love! Hearts that the world in vain had tried, And sorrow but more closely tied; That stood the storm when waves were rough, Yet in a sunny hour fall off, Like ships that have gone down at sea When heaven was all tranquillity.