Oh, the pleasure of eating my dinner alone!

The drinking man is never less himself than during his sober intervals.

A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigour of the game.

It is good to love the unknown.

I like you and your book, ingenious Hone! In whose capacious all-embracing leaves The very marrow of tradition 's shown; And all that history, much that fiction weaves.

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.

We were happier when we were poorer, but we were also younger.