Upon my word, I think the truth is the hardest missile one can be pelted with.

The intensest form of hatred is that rooted in fear.

I shall do everything it becomes me to do.

With a single drop of ink for a mirror, the Egyptian sorcerer undertakes to reveal to any chance comer far-reaching visions of the past. This is what I undertake to do for you, reader.

What is opportunity to the man who can't use it? An unfecundated egg, which the waves of time wash away into nonentity.

Quarrel? Nonsense; we have not quarreled. If one is not to get into a rage sometimes, what is the good of being friends?

The years seem to rush by now, and I think of death as a fast approaching end of a journey-double and treble reason for loving as well as working while it is day.