The heart that once has been bathed in love's pure fountain retains the pulse of youth forever.

Nothing is pleasanter to me than exploring in a library.

Such is our impatience, such our hatred of procrastination, to everything but the amendment of our practices and the adornment of our nature, one would imagine we were dragging Time along by force, and not he us.

I warmed both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.

If in argument we can make a man angry with us, we have drawn him from his vantage ground and overcome him.

In honest truth, a name given to a man is no better than a skin given to him; what is not natively his own falls off and comes to nothing.

Death stands above me, whispering low I know not what into my ear; Of his strange language all I know Is, there is not a word of fear.