Alas!... what is it, valiant knight, save an offering of sacrifice to a demon of vain glory, and a passing through the fire of Moloch? What remains to you as a prize of all the blood you have spilled, of all the travail and pain you have endured, of all the tears which your deeds have caused, when death hath broken the strong man's spear, and overtaken the speed of his war-horse?

There is a vulgar incredulity, which in historical matters, as well as in those of religion, finds it easier to doubt than to examine.

We build statues out of snow, and weep to see them melt.

Chivalry!---why, maiden, she is the nurse of pure and high affection---the stay of the oppressed, the redresser of grievances, the curb of the power of the tyrant ---Nobility were but an empty name without her, and liberty finds the best protection in her lance and her sword.

A good deal of philanthropy arises in general from mere vanity and love of distinction gilded over to others and to themselves with some show of benevolent sentiment.

One or two of these scoundrel statesmen should be shot once a-year, just to keep the others on their good behavior.

Within that awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries!