The mind doth shape itself to its own wants, and can bear all things.

I can bear scorpion's stings, tread fields of fire, in frozen gulfs of cold eternal lie, be tossed aloft through tracts of endless void, but cannot live in shame.

A willing heart adds feather to the heel.

O mysterious Night! thou art not silent; many tongues halt thou.

The bliss even of a moment still is bliss.

I have seen the day, when, if a man made himself ridiculous, the world would laugh at him. But now, everything that is mean, disgusting, and absurd, pleases them but so much the better!

Pampered vanity is a better thing perhaps than starved pride.