There is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?

Sometimes we are less unhappy in being deceived by those we love, than in being undeceived by them.

A sort of hostile transaction, very necessary to keep the world going, but by no means a sinecure to the parties concerned.

A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.

He who is only just is cruel; who Upon the earth would live were all judged justly?

Yet I did love thee to the last, As ferverently as thou, Who didst not change through all the past, And canst not alter now.

Exhausting thought, And hiving wisdom with each studious year.