Some must follow and some command, through all are made oclay.

The world loves a spice of wickedness.

Midnight! the outpost of advancing day! The frontier town and citadel of night!

How wonderful is the human voice! It is indeed the organ of the soul. The intellect of man is enthroned visibly on his forehead and in his eye, and the heart of man is written on his countenance, but the soul, the soul reveals itself in the voice only.

One half the world must sweat and groan that the other half may dream.

There's nothing fair nor beautiful, but takes Something from thee, that makes it beautiful.

Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you friendship Let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest and dearest.