...The silent reminiscence of hardships departed, is sweeter than the presence of delight.

To the last, I grapple with thee; From Hell's heart, I stab at thee; For hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee.

The Marquesan girls dance all over; not only do their feet dance, but their arms, hands, fingers, ay, their very eyes seem to dance in their heads.

Madman! Look through my eyes if thou hast none of thine own.

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

No mercy, no power but its own controls it. Panting and snorting like a mad battle steed that has lost its rider, the masterless ocean overruns the globe.

Wag the world how it will, Leaves must be green in Spring.