O money, money, how blindly thou hast been worshipped, and how stupidly abused! Thou are health and liberty and strength, and he that has thee may rattle his pockets at the foul fiend!

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.

I hate a man who swallows [his food], affecting not to know what he is eating. I suspect his taste in higher matters.

I toiled after it, sir, as some men toil after virtue.

Let us live for the beauty of our own reality.

As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see, So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion, Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee. As still to the star of its worship, though clouded, The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea, So dark when I roam in this wintry world shrouded, The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee.

Were I Diogenes, I would not move out of a kilderkin into a hogshead, though the first had had nothing but small beer in it, and the second reeked claret.