Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.

You should have a softer pillow than my heart.

I speak not of men's creeds—they rest between Man and his Maker.

[Armenian] is a rich language, however, and would amply repay any one the trouble of learning it.

One certainly has a soul; but how it came to allow itself to be enclosed in a body is more than I can imagine.

The sight of blood to crowds begets the thirst of more, As the first wine-cup leads to the long revel.

The simple Wordsworth . . . / Who, both by precept and example, shows / That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose.