What we call real estate - the solid ground to build a house on - is the broad foundation on which nearly all the guilt of this world rests.

What other dungeon is so dark as one's own heart! What jailer so inexorable as one's self!

Be true! Be true! Be true! Show freely to the world, if not your worst, yet some trait whereby the worst may be inferred!

Death should take me while I am in the mood.

In the depths of every heart there is a tomb and a dungeon, though the lights, the music, and the revelry above may cause us to forget their existence.

We men of study, whose heads are in our books, have need to be straightly looked after! We dream in our waking moments, and walk in our sleep.

This greatest mortal consolation, which we derive from the transitoriness of all things-from the right of saying, in every conjuncture, "This, too, will pass away.