If a man will kick a fact out of the window, when he comes back he finds it again in the chimney corner.

No member of a crew is praised for the rugged individuality of his rowing.

God said, I am tired of kings, I suffer them no more; Up to my ear this morning brings The outrage of the poor.

The only joy in his being mine, is that the not mine is mine.

Is all literature eavesdropping, and all art Chinese imitation? our life a custom, and our body borrowed, like a beggar’s dinner, from a hundred charities?

Let us be silent — so we may hear the whisper of the gods.

Some people will tell you there is a great deal of poetry and fine sentiment in a chest of tea.