In me didst thou exist-and, in my death, see by this image, which is thine own, how utterly thou hast murdered thyself.

Out- out are the lights- out all! And, over each quivering form, The curtain, a funeral pall, Comes down with the rush of a storm, While the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirm That the play is the tragedy, "Man," And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

It may be roundly asserted that human ingenuity cannot concoct a cipher which human ingenuity cannot resolve.

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

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

One half of the pleasure experienced at a theatre arises from the spectator's sympathy with the rest of the audience, and, especially from his belief in their sympathy with him.

The death then of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world, and equally is it beyond doubt that the lips best suited for such topic are those of a bereaved lover.