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.
I wish I were with some of the wild people that run in the woods, and know nothing about accomplishments!
The bliss even of a moment still is bliss.
Pampered vanity is a better thing perhaps than starved pride.
O mysterious Night! thou art not silent; many tongues halt thou.
To make the cunning artless, tame the rude, subdue the haughty, shake the undaunted soul; yea, put a bridle in the lion's mouth, and lead him forth as a domestic cur,--these are the triumphs of all-powerful beauty.