Saw life steadily and saw it whole.
The brave, impetuous heart yields everywhere to the subtle, contriving head.
How many minds--almost all the great ones--were formed in secrecy and solitude!
The nice sense of measure is certainly not one of Nature's gifts to her English children ... we have all of us yielded to infatuation at some moment of our lives.
The heart less bounding at emotion new, The hope, once crushed, less quick to spring again.
Truth sits upon the lips of dying men.