Our sweetest hopes rise blooming. And then again are gone, They bloom and fade alternate, And so it goes rolling on. I know it, and it troubles My life, my love, my rest, My heart is wise and witty, And it bleeds within my breast.

Ordinarily he was insane, but he had lucid moments when he was merely stupid

With his nightcaps and the tatters of his dressing-gown he patches up the gaps in the structure of the universe.

It is only kindred griefs that draw forth our tears, and each weeps really for himself.

I have never seen an ass who talked like a human being, but I have met many human beings who talked like asses.

Poverty sits by the cradle of all our great men and rocks all of them to manhood.

Sleep is lovely, death is better still, not to have been born is of course the miracle.