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.

I hate the man who eats without knowing what he’s eating. I doubt his taste in more important things.

Boys are capital fellows in their own way, among their mates; but they are unwholesome companions for grown people.

Oh, ever thus, from childhood's hour, I 've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower But 't was the first to fade away. I never nurs'd a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well And love me, it was sure to die.

A sweet child is the sweetest thing in nature.

Riddle of destiny, who can show What thy short visit meant, or know What thy errand here below?

Anything awful makes me laugh. I misbehaved once at a funeral.