It is remarkable what fine hands men of genius write, even when they are as awkward in all other uses of the hand as a cow with a musket.
Life is the steam of the corporeal engine; the soul is the engineer who makes use of the steam-quickened engine.
avarice is especially, I suppose, a disease of the imagination.
Dull November brings the blast, Then the leaves are whirling fast.
there is nothing so uncertain and slippery as fact.
January brings the snow, makes our feet and fingers glow.