He knew that Hop-Frog was not fond of wine; for it excited the poor cripple almost to madness; and madness is no comfortable feeling.

There might be a class of beings, human once, but now to humanity invisible, for whose scrutiny, and for whose refined appreciation of the beautiful, more especially than for our own, had been set in order by God the great landscape-garden of the whole earth.

To speak algebraically, Mr. M. is execrable, but Mr. G. is (x + 1)- ecrable.

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you"— here I opened wide the door; — Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep in earth my love is lying And I must weep alone.

That man is not truly brave who is afraid either to seem or to be, when it suits him, a coward.

Boston: Their hotels are bad. Their pumpkin pies are delicious. Their poetry is not so good.