Where, where was Roderick then? One blast upon his bugle horn Were worth a thousand men.

War is the only game in which both sides lose.

Faces that have charmed us the most escape us the soonest.

Honour is a homicide and a bloodspiller, that gangs about making frays in the street; but Credit is a decent honest man, that sits at hame and makes the pat play.

It is wonderful what strength of purpose and boldness and energy of will are roused by the assurance that we are doing our duty.

What I have to say is far more important than how long my eyelashes are.

Perhaps the perusal of such works may, without injustice, be compared with the use of opiates, baneful, when habitually and constantly resorted to, but of most blessed power in those moments of pain and of langour, when the whole head is sore, and the whole heart sick. If those who rail indiscriminately at this species of composition, were to consider the quantity of actual pleasure it produces, and the much greater proportion of real sorrow and distress which it alleviates, their philanthropy ought to moderate their critical pride, or religious intolerance.