Everybody's business is nobody's business.

He had a head which statuaries loved to copy, and a foot the deformity of which the beggars in the streets mimicked.

A few more years will destroy whatever yet remains of that magical potency which once belonged to the name of Byron.

We hardly know an instance of the strength and weakness of human nature so striking and so grotesque as the character of this haughty, vigilant, resolute, sagacious blue-stocking, half Mithridates and half Trissotin, bearing up against a world in arms, with an ounce of poison in one pocket and a quire of bad verses in the other.

Mere negation, mere Epicurean infidelity, as Lord Bacon most justly observes, has never disturbed the peace of the world. It furnishes no motive for action; it inspires no enthusiasm; it has no missionaries, no crusades, no martyrs.

We hold that the most wonderful and splendid proof of genius is a great poem produced in a civilized age.

A kind of semi-Solomon, half-knowing everything, from the cedar to the hyssop.