The heart-sick faintness of the hope delayed!
Of all vices, drinking is the most incompatible with greatness.
Unless a tree has borne blossoms in spring, you will vainly look for fruit on it in autumn.
Within that awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries!
He that would soothe sorrow must not argue on the vanity of the most deceitful hopes.
Cats are a mysterious kind of folk.