Tell a scoundrel, three or four times a day, that he is the pink of probity, and you make him at least the perfection of "respectability" in good earnest. On the other hand, accuse an honorable man, too petinaciously, of being a villain, and you fill him with a perverse ambition to show you that you are not altogether in the wrong.

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

And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls.

I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.

How many good books suffer neglect through the inefficiency of their beginnings!

If you are ever drowned or hung, be sure and make a note of your sensations.