Make yourself an honest man, and then you may be sure there is one less rascal in the world.

Poetry is the attempt which man makes to render his existence harmonious.

Imperfection clings to a person, and if they wait till they are brushed off entirely, they would spin for ever on their axis, advancing nowhere.

One life; a little gleam of Time between two Eternities; no second chance to us for evermore!

Is man’s civilization only a wrappage, through which the savage nature of him can still burst, infernal as ever?

Dinners are defined as 'the ultimate act of communion;' men that can have communion in nothing else, can sympathetically eat together, can still rise into some glow of brotherhood over food and wine.

History is the distillation of rumour.