Society is now one polished horde, formed of two mighty tries, the Bores and Bored.

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

Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe, Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast; Is that portentous phrase, "I told you so.

I have a great mind to believe in Christianity for the mere pleasure of fancying I may be damned.

Life is too short for chess.

Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

I am acquainted with no immaterial sensuality so delightful as good acting.