In the earliest ages science was poetry, as in the later poetry has become science.

Things always seem fairer when we look back at them, and it is out of that inaccessible tower of the past that Longing leans and beckons.

Blessed are they who have nothing to say and who cannot be persuaded to say it.

When I was a beggarly boy, And lived in a cellar damp, I had not a friend nor a toy, But I had Aladdin's lamp.

Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how.

Men's thoughts and opinions are in a great degree vassals of him who invents a new phrase or re-applies an old epithet. The thought or feeling a thousand times repeated becomes his at last who utters it best.

A sneer is the weapon of the weak.