Never to talk to ones self is a form of hypocrisy
Father of Light! great God of Heaven! Hear'st thou the accents of despair? Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven? Can vice atone for crimes by prayer.
Man marks the earth with ruin - his control stops with the shore.
The best prophet of the future is the past.
It is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.
Such is your cold coquette, who can't say "No," And won't say "Yes," and keeps you on and off-ing On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow, Then sees your heart wreck'd, with an inward scoffing.