Whatever limits us we call fate.

The torments of martyrdom are probably most keenly felt by the bystanders.

All persons are puzzles until at last we find in some word or act the key to the man, to the woman; straightway all their past words and actions lie in light before us.

It is the essence of poetry to spring, like the rainbow daughter of Wonder, from the invisible, to abolish the past, and refuse all history.

All life is a nap. The more naps you take the better.

The cheapness of man is every day's tragedy.

There is a good ear, in some men, that draws supplies to virtue out of very indifferent nutriment.