What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind. What is the soul? It is immaterial.

Half of the failures in life come from pulling one's horse when he is leaping.

Gold! gold! gold! gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold!

The year's in wane; There is nothing adorning; The night has no eve, And the day has no morning; Cold winter gives warning!

When Eve upon the first of Men The apple press'd with specious cant, Oh! what a thousand pities then That Adam was not Adamant!

Oh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!

O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.