Death possesses a good deal, of real estate, namely, the graveyard in every town.

The sorrow that lay cold in her mother's heart... converted it into a tomb.

It [the scarlet letter] had the effect of a spell, taking her out of the ordinary relations with humanity, and enclosing her in a sphere by herself.

Is it a fact-or have I dreamt it-that, by means of electricity, the world of matter has become a great nerve, vibrating thousands of miles in a breathless point of time?

In this republican country, amid the fluctuating waves of our social life, somebody is always at the drowning-point.

It will startle you to see what slaves we are to by-gone times-to Death, if we give the matter the right word! ... We read in Dead Men's books! We laugh at Dead Men's jokes, and cry at Dead Men's pathos! . . . Whatever we seek to do, of our own free motion, a Dead Man's icy hand obstructs us!

Come, therefore, and let us fling mud at them!