Happy is the man who hath never known what it is to taste of fame - to have it is a purgatory, to want it is a hell.

The heart of a girl is like a convent--the holier the cloister, the more charitable the door.

It is often the easiest move that completes the game. Fortune is like the lady whom a lover carried off from all his rivals by putting an additional lace upon his liveries.

Genius in the poet, like the nomad of Arabia, ever a wanderer, still ever makes a home where the well or the palm-tree invites it to pitch the tent. Perpetually passing out of himself and his own positive circumstantial condition of being into other hearts and into other conditions, the poet obtains his knowledge of human life by transporting his own life into the lives of others.

Happy is the man who hath never known what it is to taste of fame - to have it is a purgatory, to want it is a hell.

O woman! woman! thou shouldest have few sins of thine own to answer for! Thou art the author of such a book of follies in a man that it would need the tears of all the angels to blot the record out.

There is but one philosophy and its name is fortitude! To bear is to conquer our fate.