But you might as well bid a man struggling in the water, rest within arm's length of the shore! I must reach it first, and then I'll rest.

The Lord help us!' he soliloquised in an undertone of peevish displeasure, while relieving me of my horse: looking, meantime, in my face so sourly that I charitably conjectured he must have need of divine aid to digest his dinner, and his pious ejaculation had no reference to my unexpected advent.

Thoughts are tyrants that return again and again to torment us.

I will walk where my own nature would be leading.

And, even yet, I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain; Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again?

What kind of living will it be when you - Oh, God! Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?

I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after.