The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.

Man is born passionate of body, but with an innate though secret tendency to the love of Good in his main-spring of Mind. But God help us all! It is at present a sad jar of atoms.

My turn of mind is so given to taking things in the absurd point of view, that it breaks out in spite of me every now and then.

What's drinking? A mere pause from thinking!

Dreading that climax of all human ills the inflammation of his weekly bills.

Mark! Where his carnage and his conquests cease, He makes a solitude and calls it-peace!

In secret we met - In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? - With silence and tears