Human madness is oftentimes a cunning and most feline thing. When you think it fled, it may have but become transfigured into some still subtler form.

A thing may be incredible and still be true; sometimes it is incredible because it is true.

Is he mad? Anyway there's something on his mind, as sure as there must be something on a deck when it cracks.

Everyone knows that in most people's estimation, to do anything cooly is to do it genteelly.

Where lies the final harbor, whence we unmoor no more?

Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I'd strike the sun if it insulted me.

Those of us who always abhorred slavery as an atheistical iniquity, gladly we join in the exulting chorus of humanity over its downfall.