My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out.

Ulysses He ... saw the dark tangled curls of his bush floating, floating hair of the stream around the limp father of thousands, a languid flatong flower.

Thought is the thought of thought.

I will not say nothing. I will defend my church and my religion when it is insulted and spit on.

Some people believe that we go on living in another body after death, that we lived before. They call it reincarnation. That we all lived before on the earth thousands of years ago or on some other planet. They say we have forgotten it. Some say they remember their past lives.

He drew forth a phrase from his treasure and spoke it softly to himself: A day of dappled seaborne clouds.

A wild angel had appeared to him, the angel of mortal youth and beauty, an envoy from the fair courts of life, to throw open before him in an instant of ecstasy the gates of all the ways of error and glory.