Who has not felt how sadly sweet The dream of home, the dream of home, Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet, When far o'er sea or land we roam?

While childhood, and while dreams, producing childhood, shall be left, imagination shall not have spread her holy wings totally to fly the earth.

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

Beholding heaven, and feeling hell.

Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea.

The vices of some men are magnificent.

Cultivate simplicity or rather should I say banish elaborateness, for simplicity springs spontaneous from the heart.