When a man marries, dies, or turns Hindu, his best friends hear no more of him.

He has outsoared the shadow of our night; envy and calumny and hate and pain, and that unrest which men miscall delight, can touch him not and torture not again; from the contagion of the world's slow stain, he is secure.

It is vain philosophy that supposes more causes than are exactly adequate to explain the phenomena of things.

Near that a dusty paint-box, some odd hooks, A half-burnt match, an ivory block, three books, Where conic sections, spherics, logarithms, To great Laplace, from Saunderson and Sims, Lie heaped in their harmonious disarray Of figures,-disentangle them who may.

The crime of inquiry is one which religion never has forgiven.

Far clouds of feathery gold, Shaded with deepest purple, gleam Like islands on a dark blue sea.

We are all Greeks. Our laws, our literature, our religion, our arts, have their root in Greece.