Ah, Bartleby! Ah, humanity!
To a sensitive being, pity is not seldom pain.
Wag the world how it will, Leaves must be green in Spring.
The sailor is frankness, the landsman is finesse. Life is not a game with the sailor, demanding the long head
The terrors of truth and dart of death To faith alike are vain.
Men there are, who having quite done with the world, all its merely worldly contents are become so far indifferent, that they carelittle of what mere worldly imprudence they may be guilty.