Woe to him who seeks to please rather than appall.

War should be carried on like a monsoon; one changeless determination of every particle towards the one unalterable aim.

Appalling is the soul of a man! Better might one be pushed off into the material spaces beyond the uttermost orbit of our sun, than once feel himself fairly afloat in himself.

In our man-of-war world, Life comes in at one gangway and Death goes overboard at the other. Under the man-of-war scourge, cursesmix with tears; and the sigh and the sob furnish the bass to the shrill octave of those who laugh to drown buried griefs of their own.

A noble craft, but somehow a most melancholy! All noble things are touched with that.

The food of thy soul is light and space; feed it then on light and space. But the food of thy body is champagne and oysters; feed it then on champagne and oysters; and so shall it merit a joyful resurrection, if there is any to be.

There is a savor of life and immortality in substantial fare. Like balloons, we are nothing till filled.