A drop of ink may make a million think.

I feel my immortality over sweep all pains, all tears, all time, all fears, - and peal, like the eternal thunders of the deep, into my ears, this truth, - thou livest forever!

I love the language, it sounds as if it should be writ on satin with syllables which breathe of the sweet South

What opposite discoveries we have seen! (Signs of true genius, and of empty pockets.) One makes new noses, one a guillotine, One breaks your bones, one sets them in their sockets; But vaccination certainly has been A kind antithesis to Congreve's rockets.

I really cannot know whether I am or am not the Genius you are pleased to call me, but I am very willing to put up with the mistake, if it be one.

Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?

Men think highly of those who rise rapidly in the world; whereas nothing rises quicker than dust, straw, and feathers.