They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.

Mysteries force a man to think, and so injure his health.

I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep- while I weep!

Blood was its Avatar and its seal.

To vilify a great man is the readiest way in which a little man can himself attain greatness.

As a viewed myself in a fragment of looking-glass..., I was so impressed with a sense of vague awe at my appearance ... that I was seized with a violent tremour.

A million candles have burned themselves out. Still I read on. (Montresor)