The labours of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever fail in ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind.

I also became a poet, and for one year lived in a Paradise of my own creation; I imagined that I also might obtain a niche in the temple where the names of Homer and Shakespeare are consecrated.

How mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we have of life even in the excess of misery!

He is dead who called me into being, and when I shall be no more the very remembrance of us both will speedily vanish.

My spirit will sleep in peace; or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus. Farewell.

My candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open.

Elegance is inferior to virtue.