A man's grammar, like Caesar's wife, must not only be pure, but above suspicion of impurity.

If we cannot comprehend God in his visible works, how then in his inconceivable thoughts, that call the works into being?

There are certain themes of which the interest is all-absorbing, but which are too entirely horrible for the purposes of legitimate fiction.

And travellers, now, within that valley, Through the red-litten windows see Vast forms, that move fantastically To a discordant melody, While, like a ghastly rapid river, Through the pale door A hideous throng rush out forever And laugh — but smile no more.

Never to suffer would have been never to have been blessed.

Even for those to whom life and death are equal jests. There are some things that are still held in respect.

I dread the events of the future, not in themselves but in their results.