Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou? Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead? Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low Some less majestic, less beloved head?

Lord of himself; that heritage of woe!

Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!

The very best of vineyards is the cellar

If a man proves too clearly and convincingly to himself...that a tiger is an optical illusion--well, he will find out he is wrong. The tiger will himself intervene in the discussion, in a manner which will be in every sense conclusive.

Romances paint at full length people's wooing. But only give a bust of marriages.

Poetry should only occupy the idle.