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

True, nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am, but why will say that I am mad?! The disease had haunted my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Of all the sense of hearing acute.

The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can be quietly led.

But in the expression of the countenance, which was beaming all over with smiles, there still lurked (incomprehensible anomalyl) that fitful strain of melancholy which will ever be found inseparable from the perfection of the beautiful.

Me volví loco, con largos intervalos de horrible cordura.

-ev'n with us the breath Of Science dims the mirror of our joy.

In the deepest slumber-no! In delirium-no! In a swoon-no! In death-no! even in the grave all is not lost.