Merit, God knows, is very little rewarded.

Books which are no books.

Don't introduce me to that man! I want to go on hating him, and I can't hate a man whom I know.

He who hath not a dram of folly in his mixture hath pounds of much worse matter in his composition.

Not childhood alone, but the young man till thirty, never feels practically that he is mortal.

I have passed all my days in London, until I have formed as many and intense local attachments as any of you mountaineers can have done with dead nature.

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