I feel that the Godhead is broken up like the bread at the Supper, and that we are the pieces. Hence this infinite fraternity of feeling.

For whatever is truly wondrous and fearful in man, never yet was put into words or books.

The lightning flashes through my skull; mine eyeballs ache and ache; my whole beaten brain seems as beheaded, and rolling on some stunning ground.

Poor fish of Rodondo! in your victimized confidence, you are of the number of those who inconsiderately trust, while they do not understand, human nature.

A book in a man's brain is better off than a book bound in calf - at any rate it is safer from criticism.

If a well-constituted individual refrains from blazoning aught amiss or calamitous in his family, a nation in the like circumstance may without reproach be equally discreet.

Thus it often is, that the constant friction of illiberal minds wears out at last the best resolves of the more generous.