Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.

A thousand years may scare form a state. An hour may lay it in ruins.

I awoke one morning and found myself famous.

Farewell! if ever fondest prayer For other's weal avail'd on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky.

There is, in fact, no law or government at all; and it is wonderful how well things go on without them.

The keenest pangs the wretched find Are rapture to the dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed.

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