The eye, like a shattered mirror, multiplies the images of sorrow
A million candles have burned themselves out. Still I read on. (Montresor)
But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate; (Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow Shall dawn upon him desolate!) And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed, Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.
Democracy is a very admirable form of government - for dogs
There is no beauty without some strangeness
No thinking being lives who, at some luminous point of his life of thought, has not felt himself lost amid the surges of futile efforts at understanding, or believing, that anything exists greater than his own soul.