Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore.

It is odd but agitation or contest of any kind gives a rebound to my spirits and sets me up for a time.

With thee all tales are sweet; each clime has charms; earth - sea alike - our world within our arms.

I love not man the less, but Nature more.

Constancy... that small change of love, which people exact so rigidly, receive in such counterfeit coin, and repay in baser metal.

Who tracks the steps of glory to the grave?

Hatred is the madness of the heart.