Sleep after toyle, port after stormie seas, Ease after warre, death after life, does greatly please.

Action is consolatory. It is the enemy of thought and the friend of flattering illusions.

You can't, in sound morals, condemn a man for taking care of his own integrity. It is his clear duty.

You know I hate, detest, and can't bear a lie, not because I am straighter than the rest of us, but simply because it appals me. There is a taint of death, a flavour of mortality in lies - which is exactly what I hate and detest in the world - what I want to forget.

We are snared into doing things for which we get called names, and things for which we get hanged, and yet the spirit may well survive - survive the condemnations, survive the halter, by Jove! And there are things - they look small enough sometimes too - by which some of us are totally and completely undone.

Necessity, they say, is mother of invention, but fear, too, is not barren of ingenious suggestions.

It is a maudlin and indecent verity that comes out through the strength of wine.